Discovered Undercover
by tutncleo
Summary: Abby goes missing and Gibbs travels to Baltimore to find her. This story is pre-season one, and explores how Gibbs meets Tony. Will eventually be Gibbs/Tony pairing.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I know that about a million people have already covered this, but I couldn't seem to resist. This is going to be my version of how Gibbs met Tony. (Maybe it's some weird kind of NCIS fanfiction rite of passage, that so many of us can't seem to avoid.) I also want to establish the beginnings of Abby and Tony's friendship in it. Lots of big plans - we'll see how it goes.... It may deviate from canon ever so slightly, but I'll try to stay true to what I know. It will eventually be a Gibbs/DiNozzo pairing, so if slash isn't your thing, you have been warned. Hope you enjoy! _

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter One**

A confused Leroy Jethro Gibbs pulled his car slowly into the Navy Yard, which was unusual for two reasons. He was very rarely unsure about anything, and he almost never drove slowly. Unfortunately, ever since he'd awakened that morning, his gut had been telling him something was wrong, and though he couldn't figure out what the problem might be, his sixth sense was always right, and it was his preoccupation with trying to unravel the mystery that had him driving more slowly than was his norm. He waved his hand distractedly at the guard in the booth, as the security gates opened up for him. He was, quite probably, the only person who never had to show their ID to get in, a by-product of the time he'd pulled his gun on a guard in frustration when he'd been denied entry because his ID badge had been destroyed in a fight with a suspect, and he didn't have one to show when he'd tried to return to the office. Word had spread quickly, and now every security officer seemed to know who he was, and no one felt the need to question his right to be there. Pulling his car into his parking space, an unreserved spot right next to the director of NCIS' that everyone else in the Naval Yard knew better than to occupy, he sighed. He hated having to wait for information, but there didn't seem to be anything for it. Try as he might, he couldn't come up with a reason for his gut to be acting up, so he was just going to have to wait and see what the day brought.

When he got into the building, he stopped at the snack bar to buy a large coffee and an enormous cup of Caf-Pow. With the drinks in hand, he stepped into the half full elevator, frowning when he had to weave his way to the panel on the wall so that he could push the button that would take him to the forensics lab; the other people in the elevator, seeing his scowl, all found a reason to exit at the next stop. As he stepped from the elevator into the lab, he was surprised to find it silent. Usually the air was literally vibrating in response to the punk music his favorite lab technician, Abigail Sciuto - a brilliant but decidedly eccentric scientist, favored. Abby, as everyone called her, was normally one of the first people in every morning, as she liked to take her time easing into her day and communing with her various computers and pieces of equipment, and an early start meant she was ready to go by the time anyone needed her assistance. Gibbs tried to ignore the sense of foreboding that had been nagging at him all morning, as he set the Caf-Pow down on her desk, so it would be there waiting when she got in. With no reason to stay there, he turned and headed for the bullpen, where his desk, and the day's work, sat waiting for him.

His newest agent, Elizabeth Templeton, sat at her desk in the area of the bullpen reserved for the MCRT (Major Crime Response Team), the very picture of practicality in her navy pant suit with her brown hair neatly pinned into a bun, idly chatting on the internet. 'Probably talking to her old friends over at the FBI,' Gibbs thought, as he silently walked up behind her. Gibbs wasn't sure how things were going to work out with Templeton. She'd only been with him a month, but he had yet to see the kind of initiative and drive he felt a good agent must possess. Liz was too dependent on him for direction, never wanting to overstep some imaginary line she had created for herself. Gibbs cleared his throat, hiding his smile when she jumped ever so slightly in her seat, and quickly cleared her computer screen to hide what she had been doing.

"Good morning, Gibbs," she stuttered out, as he stepped into her line of vision.

"Liz" he acknowledged, as he crossed to her desk. "Anything interesting come in, so far?"

"Not yet, but it is early, and it's only Monday, so at least there's hope. Surely something truly heinous will happen soon," she said with a smile, recovering quickly from her surprise.

Gibbs grunted in response, as he glanced back over at her. Liz's unflappability had been the primary reason he'd hired her. After his long time second, Stan Burley, had taken an agent afloat position and Brent Langer had transferred to the FBI, Gibbs had gone through a string of replacement agents. Most hadn't even lasted a week, finding Gibbs' high expectations and bark too much to cope with over time. At least Templeton didn't seem terrified of him. He supposed her time at the FBI had put some steel in her back. Unfortunately, he was also afraid it was the FBI, and it's - from Gibbs' perspective at any rate – slavish adherence to protocol and chain of command, that made her so hesitant to look at things from outside the box, or take a leap of faith. Time would tell if she'd make the grade. Gibbs reached down and turned on his computer, resigned to spending the morning plowing through all the emails he had ignored the previous week.

At 8:30, the phone on Gibbs' desk rang.

"Jethro, do you know where Abigail is, by chance? I went up to her lab to get the results from some tests she was going to run for me, and there was no sign of her, except for an untouched Caf-Pow sitting on her desk," Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard, the chief medical examiner, and Gibbs' closest friend, inquired.

Gibbs' gut reared its ugly head again. "I put that there over an hour ago. She should have been here a half hour ago. Let me call her, and get back to you Duck."

Gibbs hung up his desk phone and pulled out his cell. Punching in a number, he waited for an answer.

"This is Abby, Mistress of the Dark. I'm tucked away in my coffin right now, and can't answer. When you hear the beep, you know what to do," Abby's voice chirped out at him.

"Abs, this is Gibbs. We were wondering when you were going to grace us with your presence. Call me," he growled into the phone.

"Problem?" Liz asked, as she sat at her desk, watching Gibbs, noting the concern in his bright blue eyes as he ran a hand through the strands of his short silver hair.

"Abby's not in yet, which isn't like her," Gibbs frowned, causing a crease to form between his brows, as he spoke.

"Probably had a little too much fun last night. She's most likely still sleeping it off," Templeton said with a slight sneer. Although she'd been at NCIS for a while, she had yet to warm to the young forensic scientist, finding her numerous tattoos and oddball, gothic clothing a bit much to take. She also didn't like the way Abby refused to defer to her as an agent, going so far as to disagree with her assessments of evidence. Although Liz wouldn't admit it to anyone, she was jealous of way Gibbs doted on Abby, bringing her treats, and allowing her to hug and sass him. Not that she wanted to do either of those things really, it was just the fact that she knew he wouldn't allow her to, that rubbed her the wrong way.

"Abby rarely drinks, and I've never known her to overindulge, if you don't count caffeine infused soft drinks. Run a trace on her phone, and see if you can tell where she is," he ordered.

Liz had just started working on the trace when Gibbs' desk phone rang again.

"Gibbs," he said answered tersely.

"This is Lt. Dawson with the Baltimore P.D. Your switchboard directed me to you. I'm calling about an Abigail Sciuto."

"What about her?" Gibbs asked warily.

"So, you do have someone by that name working there?" the detective tried to keep from sighing. 'Just my luck,' he thought, 'it just figures that this woman works for a federal agency. This is truly the case from hell.'

"She's our top forensic specialist. Why are you asking?" Gibbs growled, already not liking where this was heading.

"We found her purse in the parking lot of a club here in Baltimore, and when we tried to call her home phone, we got no answer. You were listed as her emergency contact on an information card found in it."

"So why is a Lieutenant calling about a lost purse?" Gibbs asked, knowing there was more to the story than he was being told, but used to local LEOs being hesitant to share information with federal agencies.

"We found it while looking into another matter, so I just thought I'd try to get it back to her while I was at it," Dawson said, giving nothing away. "So, if you could tell me where to find Ms. Sciuto, I'll make arrangements to get her purse back to her, Mr. Gibbs."

"Supervisory Special Agent Gibbs," Gibbs corrected, "and I don't know where Ms. Sciuto is, as she didn't report in for work today. I was hoping you were going to tell me," he growled.

'Shit!' Dawson silently swore. 'That's just great.' Aloud he said, "We don't know her whereabouts, Agent Gibbs, or we wouldn't have called you. We'll look into it from our end, but if you should hear from her, please let us know. You can call Det. DiNozzo, who is working with me on this," he said, and gave Gibbs the number, after which he pleaded another phone call, and hung up.

By the time Gibbs hung up, his stomach was doing somersaults. "I'm going up to see Director Morrow," he called over his shoulder, as he headed for the stairs that led up to the director's office. "Call me if you hear from Abby, or get a trace on her phone," he ordered Liz, even as he was taking the stairs two at a time.

Director Morrow's receptionist took one look at Gibbs as he burst through the door, and didn't even try to stop him when he went directly into the director's office.

"Tom, we've got a situation," Gibbs started, before Morrow could say a thing, and proceeded to bring the director up to speed. He finished by saying, "I'm going to head over to Baltimore and find out what's going on. There was a lot that Lieutenant wasn't sharing."

"That's fine, Jethro. Do that, by all means; Abby's one of ours. I need you to leave Agent Templeton here, though, in case anything comes in. Since Pacci is out with the flu, there isn't anyone else. Do you think she's up to handling something on her own?" Morrow asked. She hadn't been there long enough for him to have a sense of her abilities, but he trusted Gibbs' assessments implicitly.

"She can deal with anything minor, but if something major comes up, you'll need to get a more experienced agent to work with her. No matter what she may think, she isn't ready to take the lead on anything that isn't pretty cut and dry," Gibbs answered with a shake of his head.

"Done," Morrow said. "Try not to alienate the entire Baltimore P.D. while you're there, Jethro. Keep me posted," he added, although by that time he was talking to Gibbs' back.

When Gibbs got down to the bullpen Liz had just completed the trace on Abby's phone. "You aren't going to believe this, Gibbs," she said. "I got a location on her phone. It's at the 9th Precinct for the Baltimore P.D."

"Give me the address," Gibbs demanded, pleased that he wouldn't have to call Dawson back for his location. As Liz wrote out the address, he told her, "I'm going over to Baltimore to find out what's going on with Abby. Call Ducky and let him know; tell him I'll call when I know something. You've got to stay here, in case something comes in. If we get a call, run it by the director before you follow up on it, and then call me. I want to know what's going on every step of the way, and don't be out of touch. I may need you to do some stuff for me from here. That means even when you aren't in the office. We aren't going off the clock until we have Abby back," he declared, as he tucked the address she handed him into his sports jacket pocket, and headed for the elevator.

He was in his car and on the highway, headed for Baltimore ten minutes later.


	2. Chapter 2

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Two**

Gibbs walked through the front doors of the 9th Precinct at a little before 10:00, having broken almost every existing traffic law as he drove from Washington D.C. to Baltimore. Pushing his way through the people lined up to talk to the officer manning the front desk, he drew out his badge, thrust it at the cop, as he said, "I'm here to see Lt. Dawson. Where is he?" Gibbs didn't have time for pleasantries. The drive over had given him time to think, and by the time he'd parked his car outside the precinct, he was mad. He knew that Dawson hadn't told him what was really going on, but the arrogance of the man, thinking that Gibbs would fall for such a lame excuse as 'trying to return a lost purse,' had more than rubbed him the wrong way. The officer directed Gibbs up to the third floor, and pointed to the stairwell at the far end of the lobby.

When Gibbs got up to the third floor, he found himself looking at a closed door with "Homicide" painted in black letters on the patterned opaque glass that formed the upper half of the door. Pushing the door open, Gibbs stepped into a cavernous room. Desks were scattered about throughout the large open area, with a wall of offices with closed doors running along the back. As he headed for the back wall, sure that Lt. Dawson would have one of the private offices, his attention was snagged by a large rolling blackboard, stationed by a cluster of desks. At the bottom of the board, which was covered in writing, lines, and arrows was "Abigail Sciuto." Gibbs stopped dead in his tracks, and studied what was written on the board. At the top was the title "Club Killer" and below that were columns headed by the names of two women and two men. Personal details about each person were listed below, and a head shot picture had been placed beside each name. Gibbs could feel his stomach starting to churn. Just a quick glance at the pictures told him he was looking at crime scene photos. The men and women in the pictures were most definitely dead. He took a step closer and looked at the pictures more carefully; Gibbs became alarmed when he noticed their similarities. All of the victims appeared to be in their mid to late twenties, had dark hair, were heavily made up in Goth styled makeup, and wore black studded leather collars around their necks. That was the way Abby dressed every day. Looking down at the bottom right hand portion of the board, he saw "Possible Fifth Victim – Abigail Sciuto?"

"May I help you," a male voice asked him.

Gibbs couldn't seem to look away from Abby's name, but managed to respond with, "I'm looking for Lt. Dawson."

"He's not here right now. Maybe I can help you? I'm Det. Tony DiNozzo, and you would be?" he prompted, waiting for a response.

Gibbs shook himself out of his daze and dragged his eyes away from the murder board. Turning to face DiNozzo, he found himself looking into the most startlingly green pair of eyes he had ever seen. Forcing himself to look away from the eyes, he took in the rest of the man standing before him. He was young - in his late twenties or early thirties, tall, slim, but athletically built, with brown hair streaked with golden highlights, and the kind of features usually only found on a model or actor. He was dressed in a pair of charcoal grey dress slacks, a pale green shirt that accentuated his eyes, and a black sports jacket that screamed of imported fabric and expert tailoring - not exactly what Gibbs had expected, and a far cry from your average cop.

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS," Gibbs said, as he flashed his badge. "I'm Abby Sciuto's boss." His eyes once again strayed to the blackboard with her name printed at the bottom.

The younger man looked Gibbs over quickly, and then he suggested, "Why don't we step over to my desk, and then we can sit and talk," as he gestured to the desk at the far end of the cluster.

"I'm not interested in sitting down. I want to know what's going on, and when Dawson will be back," Gibbs growled, fixing dangerously flashing blue eyes, meant to intimidate, on the detective. He wasn't going to be brushed off again, especially by some kid who was too young to be anything but the low man on the homicide totem pole.

"Sadly, he doesn't consult me, or give me his itinerary, but I can give you an overview of what you're looking at if you'd give me a chance," the kid said, surprising Gibbs by not backing down. "Seems a shame for you to have wasted so much time driving here from D.C., only to have to go back none the wiser."

"I have no intention of going anywhere," Gibbs snapped, "but I do expect you to brief me on this "Club Killer" thing."

"Whoa, easy there. I'm not one of your Marines that you can just order around," DiNozzo said, causing Gibbs to study him more closely.

With narrowed eyes, Gibbs said, "How did you know I was a Marine?"

"Would you buy ESP?" DiNozzo quipped, flashing a toothy grin. When Gibbs' only answer was an unblinking stare, he sobered up and continued, "When Dawson said you might call, I took the time to look you up. It didn't occur to him that you could show up here, but since that's what I would have done if I were you. I wanted to be prepared. I don't like not knowing who I'm dealing with," he shrugged, and put his hands in his pants pocket and slouching slightly, his body language a sharp contrast to the answering stare he fixed on Gibbs.

Gibbs was impressed, despite himself. He was used to being able to bully local LEOs, but it was clear this kid wasn't going to be a pushover. "If you checked me out, then you know I usually get what I'm looking for, so how about telling me what's going on, and why you think Abby is involved."

Knowing his lieutenant wasn't going to be happy with him, but seeing no way around it, DiNozzo started to speak. "We've been looking for this guy for about three weeks now. As far as we can tell, he stalks his victims at the same club each time, a place called 'The Devil's Den'. It's a dance club downtown that caters to alternative types of all sorts. Goths, punks, gays, BSDM types and even some minor celebrities like to hang out there. The music's hot and pretty much anything goes. Actually, that might be good news for you. It's not the kind of place a science geek is likely to hang out."

"You don't know Abby," Gibbs responded. "That's exactly the type of club she'd go to." When DiNozzo raised an eyebrow, he elaborated, "She looks like the people in those pictures on the murder board."

"Oh," the young man said, momentarily lost for words.

"How long does he keep his victims?" Gibbs had to know.

"That depends. It doesn't look like he kills them until after he's got his next victim. He always grabs a woman first, and then a guy the next time. Our coroner says they're both killed at about the same time." He had stepped over to the murder board, and was studying it as he spoke.

"How much time between when he grabs the woman and then goes for a guy?" Gibbs asked, going to stand beside the detective.

"A week and a half the first time, and five days with the second pair," DiNozzo answered, knowing the acceleration wasn't good news.

"And he keeps them both alive for how long?" Gibbs pressed.

"Only one day with the first two, but three days with the second. And before you ask, we haven't figured out why the variation," DiNozzo offered, again impressing Gibbs with his ability to second guess him. "I've got a theory, though," DiNozzo continued hesitantly.

This time it was Gibbs' turn to raise an eyebrow, signaling DiNozzo to continue. "There wasn't any sign of sexual assault on any of the bodies, but the first two were partially undressed, and the last two were found naked." He touched the pictures of the victims as he spoke. "I think he wants to do something with them, but hasn't worked up the courage yet. The last guy was badly beaten up, especially around the abdomen and genital areas. Makes me think he's really into the guys, but takes the women because that's what he thinks he's supposed to like. I think that for whatever reason, he thought the last guy was into him, and then something happened, and he realized it wasn't true. I think that's why he beat him. This guy is seriously confused, and I believe he kills them out of anger over his own impotency."

"What does the lieutenant think," Gibbs asked.

"The lieutenant thinks that Det. DiNozzo has a big mouth, and shouldn't be telling fairytales to strangers," a deep voice said.

Both Gibbs and DiNozzo whirled around. A short, burly man, his hair almost gone, and his face heavily jowled stood behind them, his hands on his hips. His face was florid, and there was a pugnacious quality to his face. "Who the hell are you?" he barked.

"Special Agent Jethro Gibbs. We spoke on the phone. Remember?" Gibbs responded, not bothering to offer his hand. "You were going to tell my about all this, I hope," he demanded.

"As soon as we had any reason to support the idea that she might have been a victim," the lieutenant answered. "For all we know, she could have just been a victim of a mugging, or something."

"She fits the profile, Lou," the younger man started to say, but was interrupted by Dawson.

"Shut up, DiNozzo. You've said enough already. I'm sure Agent Gibbs doesn't want to hear all about your crazy theories." He glared at him. "Don't you have phone calls you're supposed to be making?" he asked pointedly. As DiNozzo headed for the desk farthest away from the blackboard, Dawson turned to Gibbs. "One FBI seminar, and a minor in psychology, and Pretty Boy thinks he's a profiler," he said, shaking his head.

"So you don't agree with Det. DiNozzo's analysis of the perp, or just don't see any reason to form a profile?" Gibbs asked, in his most bland voice, a sure warning sign to anyone who knew him that he was furious.

"Both. I'm just interested in stopping this guy; I don't care why he's doing it. The press got hold of it last night, and it was all over today's news. Made us look like idiots," Dawson complained.

DiNozzo, who'd been sitting at his desk, eavesdropping, winced when the lieutenant said that. Looking over at Gibbs, he saw the man's shoulders tense an almost imperceptible amount. 'He's going to blow,' DiNozzo thought to himself, and couldn't help relishing the idea. Dawson had given him a hard time ever since he'd been transferred into the man's unit. Nothing Tony did was ever right, and Dawson insisted on calling him either 'Pretty Boy' or 'College Boy'. It didn't matter that Tony's degree had been in Physical Education; Dawson was from the old school, where you joined up after high school, and worked your way up the ranks. He was a dying breed, and he knew it; that was why he resented Tony so much. Tony was only on the task force for this murder because it allowed Dawson to micromanage everything he did. So far, the only responsibility Tony had been given was the thankless task of calling all of the victims' known associates to try and find any link between them. Dawson's attitude had rubbed off on the other, older, detectives assigned to homicide, and Tony found himself largely ignored, or discounted. He was going to dead end in this job, he knew it, and was already starting to look for his next. Baltimore wasn't going to be a place to fit in and settle down after all, it was just one more turn along the way.

"Maybe that's because you are idiots!" Gibbs snapped. "I looked at your board – you don't have anything to go on. To disregard a profile, or any theory, is beyond stupid, it's dangerous. Abigail Sciuto is a Naval Criminal Investigave Service employee, so I've got grounds to investigate this case. From here on out, I want in, and we're playing it my way. I'm the Fed. I'll have my M.E. here within the next two hours to look over the bodies. You still have the bodies, I hope," he said, fixing Dawson with a hard stare and waited for the nod of confirmation. Actually, he had no idea what the rules were about taking over a case when you were investigating the disappearance of an employee, rather than Naval personnel, but he figured no one would have the balls to challenge him. After all, rule #18 stated that it was better to seek forgiveness than ask for permission. Plus, he knew Morrow would back him up if asked. "I want a copy of everything you have on all four victims, and crime scenes; and I want it yesterday."

Dawson sputtered and spat, but he was like most bullies, all hot wind and no true guts. As he silently fumed, it dawned on him, 'This could work out okay. If it all goes to hell, I can blame NCIS.' Aloud, he said, "Not much I can say about it." Then he thought of one way he could get back at Gibbs. "I've only got one condition. You have to partner up with one of my men. Since you already know him, I'm giving you DiNozzo. He's got copies of all the files; get 'em from him. We're having a Task Force meeting here at 5:00. I'll see you then. Send your man down to the morgue when he gets here. I'll alert our M.E." With that, he turned and headed for the first private office in the back of the squad room.

"Well?" Gibbs said, as he looked over at the young man.

"Well what?" DiNozzo asked, confusion warring with excitement. Maybe he'd actually get to do something on the case now.

"Grab up all the case files. We're going for coffee, and you're going to bring me up to speed," Gibbs said, as he turned to leave the room.


	3. Chapter 3

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Three**

Tony grabbed up the folders and notepad on his desk and shoved them in his backpack. Standing quickly, he hurried to catch up to Agent Gibbs, who was already on the stairs, his cell phone out. When Tony fell into step behind him, he interrupted his phone conversation long enough to say, "We're taking your car. You know the city. Just find us somewhere that serves decent coffee and has a place where we can talk." Then he turned his attention back to the phone. "Ducky, I'm back. I need you here ASAP. They're expecting you. Look over the bodies and tell me if they missed anything. I need your take on what happened to them. I'm going out for a while, but you can reach me on the phone when you've got something. I don't need to tell you that we have to move on this," he said, and then hung up.

Gibbs rolled his shoulders as he walked, releasing the some of the tension, lost in thought. He was slightly more relaxed then he had been when he first got to Baltimore. If DiNozzo was right, and he saw no reason why he wouldn't be, Abby would be relatively safe, if not happy, until the killer snatched a male victim, and according to DiNozzo, that would take a few days. Now, he just had to figure out a way to find her. He set aside his private thoughts when he became aware of DiNozzo speaking.

"This is just like _Point Break_, a seasoned older FBI agent teams up with a younger partner, who used to play football for Ohio State – just like me, except I didn't play quarterback, and neither one of us are FBI agents, and we aren't after bank robbers. Otherwise it's exactly the same," DiNozzo babbled excitedly, and smiling brightly as they descended.

Gibbs looked over at the young man, "What in the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, staring at DiNozzo as if he had lost his mind.

"You know, _Point Break_ …..the movie.....starring Keanu Reeves and Gary Busey?" DiNozzo answered, looking at Gibbs strangely when nothing he mentioned seemed to ring a bell. "Not that I think you look like Gary Busey. He's kind of scary. Too many drugs, I think. Although, he was …."

Suddenly, Gibbs reached out and whacked him on the back of the head.

"Ow! What was that for?" DiNozzo whined.

"Enough with the movie references. Get your head back in the game. We need a plan by 1700," Gibbs growled.

By this time they were out on the street. "Over here," Tony said, as he gestured towards a parking lot along the side of the building. Leading the way, he stopped when they got to a black Corvette. "Here we go," he smiled, as he unlocked the passenger side and opened the door for Gibbs.

Gibbs looked at the car, and worked to hide a grin. Somehow, he should have expected this; the kid was all flash. The car fit right in with the fancy clothes and the bright, easy smile. "Nice wheels," he grunted as he sank down into the seat.

Tony slid behind the wheel, and began to talk again as he started the car and backed out of the parking space. "It's a ZR-1 from 1990. A real classic. I bought it off a frat brother one…."

With a smack Gibbs' hand connected with the back of his head again. 'DiNozzo and Ducky are going to get along great,' he thought to himself. 'They both have diarrhea of the mouth.'

"Ouch! Is this standard procedure at NCIS? No wonder feds always look so sour," Tony snapped, wondering if his pleasure at being assigned to the agent from Washington had been premature. "You've got to stop doing that. I'm going to get a brain injury."

"How far is this coffee shop?" Gibbs asked, ignoring DiNozzo's comments, trying to figure out if they had time to start discussing the case now, or if they should wait.

"Won't take more than five minutes to get there," Tony answered. "Thought you'd want to wait until we were settled to talk about what was going on," he said, causing the older man to start, when he once again read Gibbs' mind.

"Hmph," was Gibbs' reply, but Tony smirked, knowing he'd been right. "Tell me about Abby," Tony asked, wanting to pass the time, and because he was genuinely curious. He'd never met a science nerd who hung out at a club like the Den.

"Don't get any ideas. I doubt she's your type," Gibbs said.

"I'm a man of varied tastes," DiNozzo said archly, glancing at Gibbs as if daring him to comment.

Gibbs decided that was best left alone, and instead did as DiNozzo had requested; he began to talk about Abby. "She's what they call a Goth, I think," he began. "Wears a lot of black and leather, listens to ear splitting noise she calls music. Has several unusual tattoos, including a spider web on the back of her neck. Oh, and she sleeps in a coffin," he added, smirking when he saw DiNozzo shiver. "She'd also a brilliant forensic scientist, and one of the kindest, most caring people I've ever known," he said, surprising himself with that admission. There was something about DiNozzo that put him at ease, and that didn't happen with many people.

"Is there any chance she would willingly go missing?" Tony asked.

"Nope, she's completely dedicated to her job. She even puts in extra time most weekends. Something major has to be wrong for her to miss a day of work," Gibbs assured him.

Then DiNozzo surprised him again by saying, "We're going to find her, Sir," with total conviction.

"Gibbs, just Gibbs. Can't stand to be called sir," he answered, somehow knowing that DiNozzo would correctly interpret that as a thank you. Then, changing the subject, he observed, "Your Lou doesn't seem to like you much. What's that about?"

"Guess I'm an acquired taste," DiNozzo answered, carefully sidestepping the question. The last thing he wanted to do was color Gibbs' impression of him by listing all the things Dawson hated about him. Then, to his relief, he saw the Starbucks he'd been aiming for. "Here we are," he said, nodding his head to indicate the building.

Gibbs allowed him to brush off the question, making a mental note to get Templeton to run a background on him, next time he talked to her. DiNozzo interested him, and he wanted to know more about him.

After he'd been served his coffee, Gibbs waited impatiently while the barista made the frothy concoction the younger detective had ordered. DiNozzo spent the time outrageously flirting with the girl. "Do you eat that with a spoon?" he asked, when DiNozzo finally had his drink, which was topped with almost a foot of whipped cream.

"This is the only way to drink coffee," DiNozzo decreed, as he followed Gibbs to a table at the back of the shop.

"So, what do we know about the victims?" Gibbs asked, not wasting any time.

"First victim – Sarah Linden: age-24, 5'4", 145 lbs., occupation-sales clerk at a record store, no girlfriend or boyfriend, still lived at home with her parents, part-time student - studying early childhood education, friends described her as rather shy and aloof, went to the club with a friend, who ditched Sarah when she hooked up with some guy – said Sarah was cool with that." He placed a picture on the table he'd pulled from the files in his backpack.

Gibbs found himself looking at a young woman with dyed dark purplish red hair, large blue eyes outlined with dark makeup, a pink, rosebud shaped mouth, and round cheeks that suggested a bit of extra weight. There was something sweet about her face.

Another picture was placed beside the first, this one of a handsome young man. He had dark hair, streaked with red. A hooped earring ran through one nostril, and there was a guarded expression on his face, his brown eyes were hooded and wary.

"Michael Salerno– victim number two: 29 years old, 6'0", 175 lbs., a computer tech for a financial company, gay – but unattached, shared an apartment with two other guys – they were who let us know he was missing, went to the club alone that night, according to friends – something he did regularly."

"Alyssa Jacobs," DiNozzo said, as he set another photo down, this one showing a young woman with raven black hair, small eyes which were a little too close, and a large, sensual mouth, further accentuated by the blood red lipstick she was wearing. "27, 5'7", 124 lbs., a nurse for a rest home in town, just getting over a bad breakup (ex-boyfriend has a solid alibi), he was her first serious relationship, and she was handling it badly, had taken to clubbing almost nightly at Devil's Den her best friend told me - something her friends disapproved of - never wanting any of them to go with her, none of her friends even knew she'd gone out that night."

"Last victim – Weston Willis," DiNozzo identified, as he placed the final photo on the table.

Gibbs studied it as the detective talked. Willis had been handsome as well. As a matter of fact, he looked a lot like DiNozzo, with green eyes and dark hair that had been carefully spiked and styled. His ears were pierced, and heavy silver hoops hung from them, and there was a dreamy kind of expression on his face.

"28 years old, 6'2", 180 lbs, actually he was more punk than goth, unemployed actor, sometime model, waited tables between jobs, bi-sexual and considered a bit of a player, no one steady at the moment, went to the club with a bunch of people, all intent on finding a one-night stand, reported missing after he failed to show for a commercial shoot the next day, something he would never do, according to his friends and the roommate who called it in."

"Where were they found?' Gibbs asked, as he studied the photos.

"Linden's and Salerno's bodies were dumped in the woods at a state park on the south side of town, and Willis and Jacobs were found at a rest stop, right off the highway, and north of the city. It was clear they'd all been killed elsewhere. Aside from the bruising on Willis, the other bodies were unmarked. The M.E. found puncture marks, and determined they died from lethal injections of potassium chloride."

"Thoughts?" Gibbs asked, already impressed with DiNozzo. He'd rattled off all that information, without once looking at a note. It was clear he'd studied the files repeatedly, looking for any and all clues to help solve the case.

DiNozzo looked over at him, a little surprised. Even though he knew that Gibbs was different from the detectives he worked with, he wasn't used to being asked for his opinion. He usually spent every day looking for a way to get someone to listen to his ideas, and often just gave up, following up on his theories by himself. Thus far, he'd been lucky, and had solved several cases on his own, which was why Dawson had not been able to transfer him out of homicide. The down side of that was he never had any backup, and he had the scars to prove it.

"Today, DiNozzo," Gibbs said impatiently, as he stared at the younger man. He'd noticed the startled look on the kid's face when he'd asked for his opinion, and once again found himself wondering what in the hell was going on at that precinct.

"Okay," DiNozzo said, as he ordered his thoughts in his mind. "I know we all call the perp a guy, but there isn't really any physical evidence to back that up. But I'm sure he's a he," and DiNozzo stopped a second, wincing, a little dismayed by how stupid that had sounded. Feeling a little like a kid taking an oral exam, he took a deep breath and continued. "First of all, the two women had no history of being anything but heterosexual, so they weren't likely to go off with a woman; and the two guys were both definitely into men. Secondly, both Willis and Salerno were big guys and it would have been hard for a woman to move their bodies." He looked over at Gibbs, who nodded for him to continue.

"I'm betting the perp is in his late twenties or early thirties, and is fairly good looking, and I'm basing this off of Willis. He was known to be a player, and I don't think he'd give anyone the time of day that wasn't. Not that we know whether the victims went willingly with him; finding Abby's purse in the parking lot actually suggests that they might not have, but I'll bet they spent some time together in the club. The killer would have needed to scope them out." He was on a roll now, as he continued. "I also think he may live alone. He has to have somewhere secluded to take them; after all, he keeps them alive for several days, so he has to have someplace that no one will find them. So that means he probably has a job that pays well enough for him to afford that. I don't think he starts out planning to kill them. They didn't show any signs of dehydration or malnutrition, so he's giving them food and water. You don't usually do that for someone you're planning on killing," he stopped talking, looking over at Gibbs.

Gibbs saw the insecurity peeking out from the mask DiNozzo had carefully constructed, and wore so naturally on his face. It served to remind him how young the detective actually was. "You said something back at the precinct about these killings being sexually motivated?" he prompted.

"Not the killings really, just the abductions. I think there's something wrong with the guy, sexually, I mean – obviously there's something wrong with him," DiNozzo corrected himself. "It's because he takes both women and men. It's like he can't decide whether he should do what is expected of him, or give in to what he really wants to do. I'll bet he can't get it up, otherwise, I think he'd have raped them. Maybe he tried, and failed. That may be why he kills them. He doesn't want to leave any witnesses to his failures. Maybe the reason he keeps the women for so long, is because he's not really interested in them sexually, and it takes him a while to try and do anything with them. I think it's only after he has a guy there, too, that he tries it. As if to prove to himself he's not gay. I'm betting that Willis strung him along, and that's why he kept him alive longer. I'll bet it wasn't until Willis either rejected him, or he couldn't seal the deal with Willis, that he needed to kill him, and I'd put money on the fact that Willis said something that revealed he was just stringing the perp along, looking for a way to escape. I think that's why he beat the hell out of him. 'Course, can't prove any of that," he said with a self deprecating shrug.

"Not bad," Gibbs said, and DiNozzo almost burst with pride. He had a feeling that Gibbs didn't give out compliments often or easily. "So, what would you do if you were running the investigation?" Gibbs asked him.

"I'd send someone into the club, undercover. At this point, it would need to be a guy. That's assuming he has Abby," he added quietly, watching Gibbs for his reaction.

A little tightening around the eyes was the only sign Gibbs gave that the likelihood of that upset him. "Go on," he grunted, giving nothing away.

"We need to know where he takes them, and right now, I think that would be our best chance. If the undercover officer made himself available, we might get lucky. We know what type he likes, so it shouldn't be too hard to create a cover that would appeal to him," DiNozzo pushed eagerly.

"Did you float this idea by your Lou?" Gibbs asked, although he already suspected he knew the answer.

"I tried, but he shut me down. Said it was stupid, and a waste of time – that we had no way of knowing whether the perp would be interested, and that he wasn't buying my analysis."

"Okay, let's get refills and then let's go." Gibbs said, standing up.

"Go? Go where?" DiNozzo asked, completely confused.

"To your place. You're going undercover, DiNozzo, and you need to put together the right disguise," he said, leaving the flabbergasted detective behind, as he walked to the counter to get more coffee.


	4. Chapter 4

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Four**

Tony excused himself to use the restroom while Gibbs was getting his coffee. After he had it, and Tony had not yet returned, he took the opportunity to call Templeton.

"Liz, I want you to get information for me on a Det. Anthony DiNozzo, Baltimore P.D. Keep it on the Q.T. I'll call later to hear what you found out. Anything come in?" he asked.

"Nothing. I've started going over those cold cases you wanted me to look at, but haven't found anything new yet. What's going on with Abby?" she asked.

Gibbs saw DiNozzo come out of the bathroom as Templeton had been speaking. 'Good timing,' he thought. "I'm still looking into it," he said, in answer to her last question. "Looks like she may have gotten snatched by some whacko who's been picking people up at a club here. He keeps them for a few days, and then kills them. I'm gonna need your help eventually. I just don't know how yet, so don't be unreachable," he ordered.

Liz winced. She might not like Abby, but she didn't want anything to happen to her. "You can count on me, Gibbs," she responded. "I'll get you that info. Just let me know what else I can do," she continued.

"I'll get back to you," Gibbs said, disconnecting, as DiNozzo approached. 'The kid is undeniably good looking,' he thought, as he watched heads turning in the café, as both male and female customers gazed at him appreciatively. Gibbs was amused to see that DiNozzo wasn't oblivious to the attention, as he added a bit of a strut to his walk. 'Bet he uses it to his best advantage,' Gibbs mused, silently warning himself to be careful. When he got to Gibbs, he graced him with another of his big, easy grins. Tucking his phone back into his blazer pocket, Gibbs said to the younger man, "Ready?"

"Yeah, about that Gibbs. I've been thinking. Why don't you get yourself checked into a hotel, while I go home and get some stuff? I know a couple of decent ones along the way, and could drop you off while I run to my apartment," he suggested.

There was something just a trifle too eager about DiNozzo's offer which triggered Gibbs' internal alarm system. For some reason, DiNozzo didn't want him going to his place. "Nah, that's okay. Appreciate the offer, though. I'll wait to see what my M.E. has to say. He may end up needing to stay, too, so it doesn't make any sense to make arrangements yet," Gibbs told him, unwilling to let DiNozzo win. Then he gave the younger man one of his rare smiles, thinking, 'two could play at that game.' "Let's get back in that chick magnet of yours," he said, as he headed for the door, leaving DiNozzo no choice but to trail along after him.

Once they were buckled in, and back on the road, DiNozzo asked, "Have you been wondering why Abby was at the Den last night?"

'That was a good point,' Gibbs thought. "Was there a band playing?" Gibbs answered his question with one of his own.

"Yeah, some group called Brain Matter. They…" and he stopped when Gibbs started to laugh, looking over at him quizzically. He couldn't help noticing how different Gibbs looked when he laughed – younger, and kind of sexy. 'It's a good look for him,' he thought. 'Bet he doesn't do it too often.'

"There's your answer, then. They're one of her favorite groups. I think she's friends with some of the band members. She's always trying to get people from work to go listen to them. Baltimore wouldn't be too far for her to go to hear them play," Gibbs explained.

Tony bit back a smile, as he imagined Gibbs in a club like The Devil's Den. "Doubt if they'd be your cup of tea," was all he said though.

"They might be, if I were deaf," Gibbs surprised him by joking. "Abby's parents were both deaf, so there was never any music played in the house when she was growing up. I blame that for her taste in music now."

Tony smiled again, this time offering up a natural, unforced grin, that caused his eyes to sparkle also. Gibbs was starting to recognize the difference between his real smiles and those he conjured out of thin air, whenever he felt he needed one. That made Gibbs curious. "Have you ever done undercover work, before," he asked DiNozzo.

"Oh, yeah. Used to be my specialty. I've been a male prostitute, a business tycoon, and everything in between. I used to work vice and fraud when I was with the Philly P.D. That's how I got my gold shield. They couldn't keep using a uniform for undercover work." He gave another one of those slightly self deprecating laughs.

'That's interesting,' Gibbs thought. DiNozzo clearly enjoyed receiving praise from others, but wasn't comfortable with touting his own accomplishments. Gibbs knew that no police force made someone a detective for convenience sake alone. He had to have been good, real good probably, considering how young he was.

"Are you hungry? We could stop and get some lunch. Maybe by the time we're done, your M.E. will be here," DiNozzo said, in a completely guileless voice.

'So, we're back to that,' Gibbs thought. "Nope, I'm okay. Why, are you hungry?" he asked, betting that DiNozzo wouldn't be able to say yes.

"Nah, I'm good," the younger man mumbled, and Gibbs had to hide yet another smile.

On impulse, Gibbs decided to call him on it, just to see what he'd do. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to keep me away from your place, DiNozzo. What's the matter? Still live with Mommy and Daddy?" Gibbs was shocked when Tony's face lost all color, and his jaw tightened perceptibly. DiNozzo opened his mouth, as if to snap out a reply, and then promptly shut it. Gibbs could see him clamp down on his emotions. He wasn't sure what button he'd just pushed, but he sure knew he had. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, all the emotion seemed to disappear as Tony's armor fell back in place. It all happened so fast that Gibbs almost questioned what he'd just seen.

"Nope, flew from that nest a while back," Tony said, his smile firmly back in place, although this time Gibbs knew it wasn't a real one. "Just not sure how clean my apartment is," he offered up as an excuse.

"Been in plenty of bachelor's apartments, DiNozzo," Gibbs assured him. "Yours would have to be pretty awful to shock me."

"Well, I do like to shock people," Tony said, making a rather feeble attempt at humor. He was still shaken by his reaction to Gibbs' comment about his parents. He didn't know why he'd let it get to him, and was worried that the older man had sensed something. "So tell me about NCIS," he asked, to change the subject.

Gibbs obliged him, telling about its evolution from NIS to the present day NCIS, and detailing the types of crimes they investigated. He told him about how he was the lead investigator for the Major Crimes Unit in D.C. As a matter of fact, Gibbs felt like he did more talking in the next five minutes, than he had done in a week. As he talked, Tony asked questions periodically, again impressing Gibbs with his intelligence and perceptiveness. He seemed very interested in the background of the team members, which made Gibbs think. "Are you looking to move on, DiNozzo?" he asked.

"Well, as you've already pointed out, I'm not my lieutenant's favorite person. So, yeah, I've been exploring my options. I'm not sure anyone here has my back, and that can wear on you after a while. I've had a couple of close calls already, and I don't want to end up on some autopsy table. After all, they say only the good die young, I'd hate to prove that old adage wrong," he joked, trying to soften the significance of his words. Gibbs snorted in response, and then they fell into companionable silence.

The earlier statements had Gibbs wondering. What were those close calls? Did that mean Tony had been sent out without backup? He'd seen it before, at other police departments. It was an old trick used to force unpopular cops to move on; and it was also very dangerous. Gibbs had seen it result in death a couple of times, so he knew Tony was right to be concerned. It also put him on alert for tonight. He'd have to make sure that he insisted on adequate backup when they put the undercover mission in motion. He wasn't sending someone into that club unprotected, and for now at least, he was unfortunately going to have to rely on Dawson for that protection. It would take him a day to get an NCIS operation in place. He wasn't willing to wait another night, not when Abby's life was at risk.  
Gibbs had been looking out his window as he thought. They were moving further away from the heart of the city, into an area that was primarily apartment buildings and small bodegas. He and Tony had their windows open, letting in fresh air, and the joyful sound of salsa music from the surrounding apartments floated in along with it. The apartment buildings were older, but most looked to be well maintained. Children played on the sidewalk, and their mothers and elderly grandparents sat on the stoops watching over them, while they quietly visited. The area might be poor, but it felt like a neighborhood, infused with pride and love. Tony pulled the Corvette into an enclosed garage at the end of the block, parking the car in a numbered spot. Gibbs looked over at him questioningly.

"It's pretty safe around here," Tony said in answer to Gibbs unspoken question, "but there's no point in tempting fate. I don't want anything to happen to my baby, so it's worth the monthly fees," he added, as he led the way back out onto the street. As they walked, people called out greetings to Tony, and he answered them all with a wave and a quick smile. Occasionally he would stop to inquire about the health of someone, or make some other small chitchat. It was obvious to Gibbs that Tony was well known, and liked by his neighbors. Seeing Gibbs taking it all in, Tony said, "They like having a cop living in the neighborhood. Makes them feel safe." Gibbs thought it was probably more than that, but kept his opinion to himself.

Finally, a block and a half from the garage, Tony turned and walked up the stoop of a nondescript, red brick apartment building. "Here we are," he said, as he opened the door to the foyer, which consisted of little more than a wall with rows of mail slots built into it. "Second floor," he added, as he headed up the stairs that were directly in front of them, fumbling in his pocket for his keys as they climbed.

Tony's apartment was the last one, on the left side of the hall. He inserted the key, opened the door, and reached a hand in to flip a light switch, then stepped aside, to let Gibbs enter. The apartment wasn't what Gibbs would have expected earlier this morning, when he'd first met the younger man, but by now he wasn't as surprised as he might have been. It was tiny, almost broom closet size, actually. The living area and kitchen were all one room, and there were two doors along the side wall, which Gibbs assumed led to the bathroom and bedroom. A small futon, a couple of director's chairs, and two bar stools set in front of the counter dividing the kitchen from the main space, were the only options for sitting. Bookcases had been constructed out of planks of raw lumber, balanced on plastic milk crates, and the only signs of luxury were a large television and VCR, and a stereo system, all of which sat on a long, beat up coffee table across from the futon. A few movie posters had been tacked up on the walls, but other than that, little had been done to personalize the space. It looked more like a dorm room than an apartment. All of it would have easily fit in one of those U-Haul trailers you could rent and hitch to the back of your car.

Tony looked around uncomfortably. "I don't usually have people over," he said, by way of an explanation, his embarrassment written large on his face.

"What about all your dates?" Gibbs joked, trying to put him at ease.

"I like to go to their place, makes it easier to end the night," Tony said, "cuts down on those awkward mornings after." He offered up a lascivious grin, intent on ending the discussion. "Why don't you just have a seat while I throw some stuff together. It shouldn't take me too long," he said, as he headed for one of the closed doors.

While Tony was in the bedroom, Gibbs wondered over to the bookcase, inspecting it's contents. There were movies on tape, CDs, and books. The books ranged from fictional detective stories, to really serious nonfiction books on forensics and criminal investigation techniques. Tony clearly took his work seriously, and spent at least some of his spare time studying to become a better detective. Again, Gibbs couldn't help but be impressed. He was intrigued by DiNozzo. 'The kid is such a bundle of contradictions,' he thought. On the surface he was all flash - fancy clothes, shoes, haircut and car, quick with a smile and an easy line – but underneath he was so much more. Gibbs started to wonder how he would fit in with Liz and Pacci. It certainly wouldn't take him long to pack, and it didn't seem like anyone here would miss him that much. 'We'll have to see what Templeton digs up, and how this goes,' he told himself. In the background he could hear drawers being opened and slammed shut, and hangers being scooted along a metal pole. Eventually the sounds stopped, and Tony stepped back into the room, carrying a large duffle bag crammed full.

"Running away from home?" Gibbs quipped, when he saw the size of the bag.

"Just wanted to have a few options, in case you don't like the first outfit I put together," Tony explained. "I need to stop at a drugstore on the way back, to pick up a couple of things I didn't have," he added. "So, where to next?"

"Now, we get some lunch. It's going to be a long night, and with the meeting at 1700, we might not have time for dinner," Gibbs answered.

As they walked back to the parking garage, Tony said quietly, "Sorry about the apartment. By the time I get done paying for my parking garage, gas, food, miscellaneous expenses, and student loans, there isn't a lot left over. This is about all I can afford, and since I don't spend much time there…" his voice trailed off as he shrugged.

"Not a big deal," Gibbs brushed it off. "I spent years living in crummy places when I was in the Marines. Some of them made your place look like the Taj Mahal. So, where do you suggest we eat?"

Tony was thankful for the change in subject, and he chattered happily about the various choices open to them. By the time they were back in the car, they had decided on Chinese. After they got their food, they fell back into a discussion of the case. Tony filled Gibbs in on all of the minutia he had not yet mentioned. By the time he had finished, Gibbs was as frustrated as Tony. They had precious little to go on, and no real clues to investigate. At this point, their only hope was if the killer made a serious mistake. The undercover operation was looking like their best, and only, chance to catch the man. Half way through their meal, Gibbs' phone rang.

"Jethro? It's Ducky," Gibbs heard when he answered.

"Are you here yet?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh, yes. I've been here for about an hour now. I think it would be best if you came to the morgue. I have a few things to share with you, and it would be easier if you were here," Ducky said.

"On my way. May take me a bit, I'm not at the precinct," Gibbs said, as he punched, 'end call' on his phone. "Pack it up," he said to DiNozzo, indicating the food. He was all business again. Maybe Ducky had found something that would help him get Abby back, he hoped. For now, he didn't have any other options. "My M.E.'s here, and has something for us. How long will it take us to get to the morgue?"

"We can be there in less than fifteen minutes," DiNozzo said, as he quickly closed up the cartoons of food. "Maybe a little faster if traffic isn't too bad."

By the time they walked into the morgue DiNozzo was jittery. They had made it back in record time, probably due to the fact that Gibbs kept asking DiNozzo if that was the best his car could do. At Gibbs' prompting he had wove the car in and out of traffic, ignored stop lights, and set new speed records for the Baltimore downtown streets. When they finally pulled up in front of the station, Tony didn't think he had ever been happier to see the precinct.

Standing at one of the examining tables was a small, older man, a red bow tie stuck out of the neck of his lab coat, and he was bent over, carefully looking at something inside the belly of the cadaver that lay on the table. Hearing them enter, the man looked up. "Ah, Jethro, and who might this be?" he asked indicating Tony, his voice a unique mix between a Scottish and English accent.

"Doctor Donald Mallard, meet Detective Anthony DiNozzo, my new partner," Gibbs introduced.

"My pleasure," Ducky said, holding out a gloved, and slightly gruesome hand. Tony looked at the proffered hand, slightly askance, and Ducky laughed slightly abashedly, when he realized what he had done. "My apologies, dear boy," he said, as he withdrew his hand. "We shall have to wait for a more opportune time to get better acquainted."

"You said you had something, Ducky?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

"Well, yes," Ducky said. "I've gone over the autopsy reports on the poor victims that the local M.E. prepared, and they were fairly good. I haven't found any reason to disagree with anything he found."

"So why did you call me then?" Gibbs demanded.

"I said I agreed with everything he had found, Jethro. I did not say he'd found everything there was to find," Ducky said, somewhat stiffly.

"As I'm sure you know, the killer injected each of his poor hapless victims with a fatal dose of potassium chloride. Aside from the obvious ligature marks on the wrists, caused no doubt by the rope used by the killer to secure them whilst he held them hostage, only one of the victims showed any signs of physical violence. Dr. Reynolds, the local M.E. did a fine job of documenting those injuries. The blood work did not show any trace of other drugs, but I became curious as to how the killer subdued his victims. I biopsied a small portion of fatty tissue, and found traces of chloroform. Chloroform is quickly metabolized by the body, but tends to linger longer in our fat cells. Why I remember one case I had, in London, a long time ago. A young man was brought into me just….."

"Not now, Ducky," Gibbs interrupted him. "So you're saying the killer used chloroform to kidnap his victims?"

"Quite probably, Jethro. Although looking at the time lines, I'd have to say any trace of that would be long gone. No, what I'm saying is that the killer used chloroform to put them to sleep whilst he had them. I was just getting ready to examine their livers, to see if I could tell how often they were exposed to the chemical. Sometimes frequent exposure to chloroform will leave lesions on the liver. They will heal over time, but these poor souls will never have that chance."

"Are you going back to D.C. when you're done here?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, things are very slow at home right now," Ducky said. "I had thought that I might be of some use to you here," he offered.

"That'd be great, Ducky. Morrow is okay with that?" he asked.

"Yes, the director said he would call me if I was needed back there. He thought perhaps I could keep you from starting a turf war, but I told him I was only one man," Ducky said, smiling at Gibbs.

Tony burst out laughing at that, deciding that he was going to like the odd little medical examiner.

"Something funny DiNozzo?" Gibbs barked, turning to look at the police officer.

"Not a thing, Boss," Tony said, unconsciously bestowing the honorary title on Gibbs as he tried to stifle his laughter, and causing Gibbs to smirk.

"I didn't think so," Gibbs grunted. "How much longer are you going to be?" he asked Ducky.

"I've just started on the livers," Ducky answered. "It will probably take me another couple of hours, as I'd like to re-examine all of the major organs."

"There's going to be a task force meeting at 1700," Gibbs said, as he looked at his watch and saw that it was only 1400. "I'll get DiNozzo to take me to the nearest hotel, and I'll get us each a room," Gibbs offered. "While I'm doing that, you can get what you need from the drugstore," he said to Tony.

"Good work, Duck," Gibbs praised him, as he turned towards the door. "Call me if you need me," he added.

Looking at Tony, who stood in the morgue, not quite sure what to do, he said, "Any day now, DiNozzo," and smiled in approval as the younger man snapped to attention and followed him out.


	5. Chapter 5

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Five**

They stopped by Gibbs' car so that he could get his kit, a bag filled with clean clothing and toiletries he always had with him in case he got stuck out of town while working a case. Tony then drove Gibbs to the Best Western, which was only about three blocks from the precinct. Parking the car, he said, "There's a Walgreen's just down the block. I'll run over there while you're checking in."

"That'll work," Gibbs agreed. "Give me about an hour to get settled and to make a couple of calls. Be up at my room by 1500 and we'll finalize our plans for the undercover operation."

When Gibbs got up to his room, he tossed his bag on the bed. A quick look around told him that the room would do. It wasn't fancy, but it was clean, and more importantly, had a coffee pot on the vanity in the bathroom. Putting on a pot to brew, Gibbs pulled out his phone and called Templeton.

"Report," he commanded, when she answered.

"Gibbs," she said. "There isn't much going on here to report. A couple of new cases have come in, but they were penny ante stuff, and Morrow assigned them to other teams."

Gibbs had to smile when she said that. He was pretty sure that wasn't the only reason the new cases had been given to other teams, but he didn't comment on it. 'Let her stay all puffed up with pride for a while longer,' he thought. Aloud, he asked, "What about that research project I gave you?"

"Oh, you mean the stuff on Anthony DiNozzo? I've got some info, but I'm still digging. Are you having to work with him? If so, I feel sorry for you," she stated.

"Just tell me what you've got," he snapped, irrationally irritated at her criticism of Tony.

"First off, I don't even know why he's a cop. He's the scion of a rich New York businessman and grew up on Long Island. He's an only child, and his mother died when he was ten, in a single car accident, which is kind of weird. Went to a local private school until age twelve, then transferred to the Rhode Island Military Academy – I wonder if he had a discipline problem? That's a strange place for a rich businessman to send his kid," she hypothesized.

"Save the conjecture, just give me the facts," Gibbs barked.

"After high school he went to Ohio State University - maybe he couldn't get into an Ivy League school - where he majored in Physical Education and minored in Criminology and Psychology. He had a high B average. I hacked into their records and checked his test scores. He must not have tried hard in school, because he tested off the charts, near perfect SAT's and ACT's," she said, citing the two major entrance exams for most universities. "Played on the football and basketball teams and had a partial athletic scholarship. Here's the weird thing – he took out the maximum in student loans each year he was in school, and his records show that he was a student worker in the Phys. Ed. Center all four years. Anyway, from there he went to the Illinois Police Academy, where he graduated second in his class. Then he spent two years with the Peoria Police Department and moved on to the Philadelphia P.D. from there. Only eighteen months in Philly, but he did make detective while there. Now he's with the Baltimore P.D., as you know. He's been there just shy of two years. He's gotten a couple of disciplinary write-ups in Baltimore for insubordination from his lieutenant, but his solve rate is solid. He probably has a more experienced partner; I'd try to work with him if I were you. DiNozzo doesn't sound very dedicated, after all, he keeps moving around. Although, he's probably rolling in money, and doesn't think he has to work very hard. That's all I've got right now; I can get you more if you want. Call his bosses, that kind of thing," she finished.

"That'll do," Gibbs said, already trying to process the information she'd provided him, and in a hurry to get off the phone with her. Her assumptions had angered him, and he was once again reminded of his concern for her longevity. An NCIS agent couldn't afford to assume things about a person without fully checking out the facts, and Liz always seemed willing to think the worst of a person. Gibbs might not be the world's best communicator, but he did have empathy for the people he encountered in his job. He wasn't sure Liz was capable of that.

"Stay available, I may need you," he reiterated, just before he hung up.

Standing, he went into the bathroom to check on the coffee. It was almost done, and he stretched while he waited. He had spent too many hours sitting down today, or being crammed into a car, he realized, as he felt his vertebra realigning. As he poured himself a cup of coffee, he thought about what Liz had told him. The picture she had painted didn't jive with what he had seen today. Tony dressed the part of a rich playboy, and his car certainly reinforced that image. But the Tony who lived in a near empty apartment, in a less than desirable area, and seemed to know all his neighbors, certainly didn't. He had said his paycheck didn't spread far enough to afford anything better, and he, too, had mentioned student loans. It sure didn't sound as if he was getting any financial aid from his family, and probably hadn't for some time. Liz had also implied that he didn't take his job seriously, but Gibbs had found the opposite to be true. And as for her assumption that he wasn't dedicated, well Tony seemed to be the only one on the Baltimore police force who was spending any real time trying to solve this case. As to the disciplinary actions against him by Dawson, Gibbs just couldn't get too worked up over those. He'd met the man, and it had been all he could do to keep from punching him. He had no idea what it would be like to work under him, day after day.

Gibbs thoughts strayed back to Abby. He'd consciously tried to push his concerns for her to the back of his mind all day. He felt sure she was physically safe enough for now, but he knew she must be afraid. Abby didn't have to face danger on a daily basis, and despite her tough appearance, he knew she was really kind and gentle inside. She wasn't equipped for this sort of thing. He had a momentary vision of her tied up, tears streaming out of her eyes, body trembling. He instantly squashed it. Thoughts like that weren't going to help her. He hated that he only had one potential course of action, and that the success of it depended totally on their ability to bait the killer. He lost himself in his planning, as he thought about what needed to happen.

Gibbs cursed, when he felt wet heat on his chest. He'd been so lost in thought, he'd spilled coffee down the front of his shirt. After taking off his jacket, he pulled off his polo shirt. Glancing in the mirror, he saw that the coffee had soaked all the way through to his t-shirt. He yanked that off as well, and crossed back into the bedroom to get a fresh change from his bag. He had just pulled out a t-shirt, when there was a knock on the door. Setting the shirt on the bed, he went to open the door. Tony stood there, a smile on his face and two cups of coffee in his hand.

"Get everything you need?" Gibbs asked, as he waved Tony in, and crossed back to the bed, to get his t-shirt.

"Yeah," Tony said, not trusting himself to say anymore, as he watched the muscles on Gibbs' back ripple, when he lifted his arms to slide on the t-shirt. He had thought the man attractive before, but seeing his chest and the hard muscles in his arms, he was having to upgrade Gibbs from merely handsome to dead sexy.

"One of those for me, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"Huh?" Tony blinked, having missed what had been said to him

"The coffee - is one of those for me, or have you taken up two fisted drinking?" Gibbs asked again.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry," he said, as he handed a coffee to Gibbs. He hurriedly took a sip of his own coffee, hoping to wet his suddenly dry throat and mouth.

"Never apologize, DiNozzo. It's a sign of weakness," Gibbs responded, as he took the coffee. "I just made a pot, but spilled the first cup down the front of me," he explained, as he dug around in his bag with his free hand, looking for a polo that would go with the jacket he had with him.

"Ah," Tony said, having recovered a bit. "That explains it. I was starting to feel a little overdressed," he joked, hoping Gibbs hadn't noticed his momentary awkwardness. Not that he was sure he had fooled him, the man didn't seem to miss much.

Gibbs snorted in response then finally found a shirt that suited him, and pulled it out of his bag. He placed the coffee down on the bedside table, and pulled on the polo. He had to unbuckle his belt and open the waist of his pants to tuck in the shirt tails. As he did this, he noticed that Tony was watching him intently. He felt a twitch in his groin, and had to tell himself to snap out of it. There was no way a good looking kid like DiNozzo was going to be interested in him. He was more than likely one hundred percent heterosexual anyway, with a proclivity for gorgeous blondes. Besides that, he had to work with Tony, and was even thinking about trying to recruit him for NCIS. Gibbs had a rule for that, number twelve – never date a coworker. He'd broken that once, several years ago, and it hadn't turned out well. He wasn't willing to make that mistake again.

Tony was still standing in the middle of the room, clutching his coffee, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "Pull up a chair, DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered, pointing to one of the two chairs clustered around a side table next to the window. As he spoke, he grabbed his own coffee, and walked over to the other chair, and sat. Tony followed him over, and lowered himself down into the chair. "Let's talk about how this undercover operation needs to work," Gibbs said, determined to get them both back on track.

"I've got some ideas," Tony volunteered, then waited for a sign to continue.

"Go on," Gibbs said, nodding. He didn't know how Tony had managed to get written up for insubordination; he was slightly reticent to share his thoughts. Of course, maybe that was a result of being beaten down by Dawson.

"Okay, we're pretty sure he's going to be looking for a guy next, and we know the types he likes – either goth or punk. Since the last man he picked was punk, I decided to go for that look, too. Everyone he ended up choosing seemed to be either alone, or out to find a one night stand, so I was thinking that I should go in alone. Make myself available, and see who nibbles." Tony paused here. He was getting to the part of his plan that he thought might be the most problematic. He wasn't sure how Gibbs had seen it playing out, but Tony felt he knew what had to happen. "I'm not sure we're going to be able to tell which guy he is. I don't think he's likely to advertise, 'Hello, I'm the sick son of a bitch who's been kidnapping and killing people, so please follow me home.' We're going to have to let him get me. We can have people in the parking lot, and watching all doors, so you'll be able to see when I exit.  
That way, we can put a tracking device on me somewhere, and we can also have people physically follow his car. We don't want to miss any opportunity to find where he's taking them. Not if we want to get Abby back," he added, hoping that would seal the deal. He looked at Gibbs, waiting for his response.

Gibbs' face didn't give anything away. He'd pretty much come to the same conclusion earlier, but he wasn't happy with it. Purposely letting a perp grab someone was a complete contradiction to what he had been trained to do, and there were a lot of ways it could go wrong. He also wanted to let Tony have his moment - think the idea was completely his; he had a feeling he didn't get too many of those with the Baltimore P.D.

"Are you sure you're okay with that?" he asked Tony, watching him closely for any sign of hesitation. If Tony wasn't completely on board with the plan, there could be the danger that the killer would sense his unease, and either get scared off or do something drastic, which might result in Tony getting injured and Abby getting killed.

"Absolutely!" Tony assured him. "I want to get this guy before anyone else gets hurt, and besides, I'm tired of sitting on the sidelines." Tony went on, determined to convince Gibbs, "I know I can make this work. I ran a sting in Philly that ….."

"Okay," Gibbs said, interrupting him.

"Okay?" Tony asked.

"Okay, we'll play it your way, DiNozzo. We'll give it three nights. My only stipulation is we have someone in the club besides you, getting pictures of everyone who seems really interested in you. I can have someone from my team run them through facial recognition programs, and see if anything pops up. That way, even if he doesn't nab you, we may still have a shot at him."

"That'd be good," Tony agreed. As he felt the adrenaline begin to kick in, he was working hard to keep from grinning. He used to love undercover work, and was thrilled to get to do it again.

"So, how much trouble do you think Dawson is going to give us?" Gibbs asked.

"You might not want to mention I had anything to do with the plan. As a matter of fact, he's more likely to agree to help if he thinks I'm not real happy about it," Tony added wryly.

That just pissed Gibbs off, but he bit his tongue. He hated short sightedness, and Dawson clearly didn't realize the potential in the younger detective. They spent the next hour hashing out the details, and before Gibbs knew it, it was time to go to the task force meeting. Gibbs called Ducky and asked him to meet him in the lobby. He wanted the M.E. to tell the officers about his discoveries during the meeting.

When they got to the precinct, Ducky was out front, waiting for them. Together, the three men went up to the squad room. Entering the room, Gibbs saw six men gathered around the blackboard, with Dawson standing in the center. It was clear they had already started, not bothering to wait for him, or Tony. "Are you going to invite me to your little party?" Gibbs asked, as they approached.

Dawson turned, "This is the fed I was telling you about," he said to the other detectives. "Agent Gibbs. I was just reviewing what we know up to this point," he added, for Gibbs' benefit. "We're all ready to be enlightened now," he said, waving his hand, as if surrendering an invisible stage to Gibbs.

Ducky put a restraining hand on Gibbs' arm, fully aware of how irritated his friend was, and remembering his promise to Morrow. "I got it, don't worry," Gibbs muttered quietly to the M.E., as he walked to the front of the group.

"Gentlemen," Gibbs said, looking over the detectives standing in front of them. They were a pretty homogenous group, all mid to late middle aged, poorly dressed, and slightly out of shape. The expressions on their faces ranged from curious to openly belligerent. 'This was going to be fun,' Gibbs told himself. "I don't want you to think I'm stepping in here and pushing you to the side. We're only going to solve this case if we all work together, and I'm more than happy to let Baltimore P.D. take all the credit when we do," he began. That was about all the peace keeping he could muster, for he then immediately launched into summarizing Tony's theories, being careful not to cite the younger detective. He had Ducky come up to share his findings, and learned in the process that Ducky's examination of the livers had suggested that the killer had used the chloroform repeatedly on his victims. His gut clenched a little when he heard that, as he thought about Abby. When Ducky was done, Gibbs unveiled their plan to send Tony in undercover.

"I don't like that," Dawson immediately responded. "There are too many ways that could go wrong, and DiNozzo's too green."

"That was what DiNozzo said, too," Gibbs answered. "But I don't see how we have any other choice."

"Well, I guess we could try it. We'll just have to be careful," Dawson said, backing down.

Gibbs swallowed a smirk. Tony had been right. Dawson couldn't resist the opportunity to poke at him. After that, things went more easily. A floor plan of the Den was drawn out, with a lot of help from DiNozzo, which made Gibbs wonder if he had more than a passing knowledge of the club, and positions were assigned. They all agreed that Tony should be fitted with a tracking device, and Tony was sent to change, while a technician was called in to fit him with one. Ducky excused himself, having gotten his room key, and directions to the hotel from Gibbs. With nothing left to do, pizza was ordered, and the men settled down to wait.

Tony was gone for almost a half hour, and when he walked back into the room there was total silence. He was completely transformed. He had applied colored gel to his hair, and red and green strands spiked up off his head. His eyes were heavily kohled, making the green of his irises appear paranatural, and although he couldn't be sure, Gibbs thought that Tony had applied some kind of makeup to make his cheeks and jaw line more prominent. On his chest, he wore only a black leather vest that laced closed, its hem not quite touching the top of the pants, leaving a little skin visible at the bottom and offering just the slightest glimpse of a thin strip of hair that trailed from his belly down towards his more private areas. His pants were skin tight, low slung black jeans, but it was the accessories that really set the outfit off. A blood red colored collar now graced Tony's neck, and black leather slave gauntlets had been affixed to his wrists. Around his hips, was a heavily studded black leather belt that had been draped loosely, rather than run through the belt loops of the jeans. Two red leather straps buckled to the belt at each hip bone, each one having been threaded between Tony's legs from back to front, and they formed a vee which framed and showcased his groin. Heavy black leather boots finished the outfit.

Gibbs had to swallow a couple of times when he saw him. He was, as Abby would have said, sex on a stick. There was uncomfortable shifting from the other men, signaling the uneasiness heterosexual men experienced when they had a visceral response to another man, but Gibbs couldn't blame them. No matter your gender, you would have to be dead, not to respond to the way DiNozzo looked.

It was Tony who broke the mood, when he sniffed the air and said, "Do I smell pizza?" the little boy eagerness of the question freeing the other men from the spell. After that, they settled back in to eating the pizza, allowing the technician to place a bug on the inside of Tony's neck collar, and waiting for it to be late enough to head towards the club.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: This is my little answer to ferneberga's plot bunny and a very small homage to **__**SA3466996's wonderful story "The Onion".**_

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Six**

When they were almost done eating, a young man entered the squad room and looked around timidly. He wore a pair of baggy khaki Dockers, a white button down shirt, dirty blue Chuck Taylors, and had inch thick glasses perched on his thin nose. His hair was unkempt and slightly dirty, and he looked as if he was just in the final stages of outgrowing a bad case of adolescent acne. "Um, hi?" he said/asked to the room in general. "I'm Brad, from Tech Services. They sent me up here to help a Lt. Dawson. They said he requested a photographer?"

All of the detectives' heads swiveled to look at the new arrival. A couple of the detectives laughed outright, which Gibbs thought was a little like the kettle calling the pot black, and Dawson identified himself. "Did they tell you what we needed?" Dawson asked.

"They just said I was going to have to take some pictures without being seen doing it. I've got this really cool new camera; its built into a cell phone, but it actually takes high resolution shots from up to 200 yards away, and it's got a timer on the shutter, so you don't need a flash," he said, more confidant now that he was talking about something technical. He pulled out a rather sleek looking cell phone from his back pocket to show them.

"Gibbs, can I talk to you for a sec?" Tony asked, nodding his head towards the side of the room. He'd been watching the whole exchange with the boy, and was horrified. He led Gibbs far enough away that they couldn't be overheard, and said, "We can't send that kid into the club; he'll stick out like a sore thumb. It won't even matter how clever that camera is, because people are going to be staring at him, and that's provided he even gets past the door security."

"Got a better idea, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked. He didn't like the idea either, but he didn't know what the solution was.

"Someone else needs to take it in," Tony said.

Gibbs looked over to where the other detectives sat, lounging around and poking fun at 'Brad, from Tech Services'. "Do you see a better option?" he asked, nodding his head in their direction.

'Yeah, I do," Tony answered.

Gibbs looked back, and found Tony gazing intently at him. When Tony saw that he had Gibbs' attention, he raised his eyebrow, forming a silent question.

"Me? You gotta be kidding! I'm not exactly dressed for it either, in case you hadn't noticed," Gibbs said, shaking his head.

"I've got a plan. Trust me on this," Tony insisted. "You want those pictures, don't you?" he asked, hoping that would tilt things in his direction.

Gibbs looked back over at the detectives and the kid from Tech, and sighed. "Okay, tell me your plan."

"Clear it with Dawson, while I get some stuff out of my car, and then I'll show you," Tony said, in lieu of a direct answer. Gibbs was sure he was going to regret it, but he agreed, and while Tony went down to his car, he got Dawson to sign on and had Brad show him how to use the camera.

When Tony got back up, he was once again carrying his duffle bag. "Let's go into the bathroom," he said, and headed for the men's room down the hall. Gibbs had little choice but to follow. When they got inside, Tony started digging around in his bag. "You made a joke about how much stuff I brought, but it's going to come in handy now," he said, as he withdrew a pair of jeans. "You aren't that much shorter than me, so I think these will work," he added, as he thrust the jeans into Gibbs' hands.

"I've got about thirty pounds on you, Tony," Gibbs objected, as he stared at the faded denim.

"That'll just make them that much tighter," Tony said with a smirk. "Besides, I saw you this afternoon. You're in better shape than your clothes suggest," he added, as he remembered the clean definition of muscle he'd seen displayed on Gibbs' back and stomach. "What size shoe are you?" he asked.

"A twelve," was Gibbs' answer.

"My stuff won't work for you then, 'cause I'm an eleven." He looked down at Gibbs' plain black lace up shoes. "Those aren't that bad, anyway. They're so plain they'll just sort of disappear." He looked at the jeans Gibbs was still clutching. "Are you going to put them on?" he asked pointedly.

Gibbs gave a quiet "humph," but did as instructed, setting his gun and knife on the sink behind him as he undressed. He had to suck in his breath to get them closed, but eventually he succeeded. The jeans were longer than Gibbs usually wore them, but not so long as to be dangerous, the excess merely puddling over the top of his shoes. Tony watched the whole procedure with an expression that Gibbs couldn't quite identify.

"I hope I don't have to do too much bending," Gibbs grunted.

"They'll stretch," Tony answered, and then paused, once again just looking Gibbs over. "Okay, now, lose the jacket and the polo shirt. I think we'll go for good old fashioned sex appeal – just a good pair of jeans and a white tee," Tony said, suddenly back to business.

Gibbs couldn't believe it, but for some reason, he complied. While he had been removing his top layers, Tony had once again dug items out of his bag. Squirting something from a can onto his hands, Gibbs gave a small jerk, when Tony reached over and rubbed his hands through his hair. Rather than comment, he worked hard on ignoring the pleasure caused by Tony's fingers rubbing against his scalp, aware that the jeans were too tight to hide anything, and was embarrassed when he realized he'd only been partially successful. Before he knew what was happening, the fingers were gone and Tony was wrapping a belt around his hips. When he got it all the way around, he paused briefly, but remained silent, before buckling it up. Then he stood back, and looked Gibbs over with an appraising eye. He had that strange expression on his face again; the one that bothered Gibbs because he couldn't read it. Finally he nodded, and simply said, "You'll do." Then he stood back and gestured to the mirror behind Gibbs, urging him to look.

He was a bit stunned by what he saw. The jeans rode low on his hips and hugged him in a way that made him slightly uncomfortable – very little was left to the imagination, although he was relieved to see that his belly, which he did work hard to maintain, wasn't rolling out over the waistband. His t-shirt, which he must have worn a thousand times under his clothes, suddenly looked like a foreign object when paired with the jeans. He hadn't had any idea that it was that snug, since he rarely looked at himself while wearing just it. The belt Tony had wrapped around him was wide, made of a dark brown leather with a simple, but repeating pattern tooled into its grain, and it fastened with a heavy silver buckle. His hair, which was a little longer than he usually wore it, since he hadn't gotten to the barber recently, was mussed, although not to the extreme of Tony's. Whatever Tony had done to it made it appear thicker and bits of the front fell down over his forehead, making it less conservative. It was weird – he still looked like himself but at the same time, looked completely different. He wasn't sure how that was possible.

He looked down, and saw his gun and knife sitting next to him, on the edge of the sink. "Where am I supposed to put my gun and knife," he asked. Then something occurred to him. "Where in the hell do you have yours?"

Tony laughed, and said, "I've got a gun strapped to my ankle. The boots hide it. But I've got an idea for you." He again reached into the bag.

"That's like one of those tiny clown cars at the circus – the ones where the clowns just keep pouring out and you can't figure out where they're coming from. Or one of my ex-wives' purses," Gibbs said, as he watched Tony fish out a black leather jacket.

"Do you want the jacket or not?" Tony asked, not dignifying Gibbs' remarks with an answer, although he felt a tug of disappointment when Gibbs mentioned his ex-wives.

Gibbs took it from his hand and slid it on. Again, it was snugger than he would have liked, but it fit. It fell below his waist, and he reached around to clip his gun to the back of the jeans, knowing the jacket would cover it. Next, he slid his knife into a pocket in the jacket. Actually he was glad for the jacket for another reason, as well. Despite its snugness, it made him feel less exposed. "You think this will really work?" Gibbs asked, gesturing at himself.

"Oh yeah," Tony said, trying not to visibly swallow. "Believe me, you look just fine."

Gibbs folded and stacked up his own clothing and then Tony put them in his duffle for safe keeping. "We should probably head that way soon," Tony said. "Clubs start hopping earlier here in Bmore, than in D.C. because they have to close earlier. By the time everyone gets set, we should be good to go in."

It took them a little over an hour to get everyone in position. Two of the detectives were stationed in a car in the parking lot, in a space that afforded them an unobstructed view of the lot and the walkway to the club. Two more were parked across the street from the back entrance, and Dawson and another detective were parked a block away, in a van equipped to follow the tracking device planted in Tony's collar. Gibbs and Tony rode to the club together, in Tony's car.

Gibbs used the time to give Tony some last minute instructions. "You can't focus just on the men," he told the younger man. "We may be pretty confident that the perp is a guy, but we can't be sure," he reminded Tony. "Get them talking. Maybe if we're lucky, they'll say something that gives them self away, and we won't have to risk letting them get you. I'll hang out at the bar. See if you can't find a way to get anyone who seems really interested to go over there with you. That'll make it easier for me to get a shot of their face; and if you need to talk to me, just signal. Since we're arriving together, people will assume we're friends. We can go to the can and talk or something," he said, "and don't do anything stupid. We've got the area pretty well covered, but things can always go wrong."

"Not my first rodeo, Gibbs," Tony said, but he gifted the older man with one of his genuine smiles. In spite the nagging, it was refreshing to have someone watching his back, someone who really seemed to care. He was surprised to discover, that despite what they were prepared to let happen tonight, he was more relaxed than he had been in a long while. Gibbs radiated competence and quiet concern, and that served to settle Tony down.

When Tony had parked the car, he handed the keys to Gibbs. "What's this for?" Gibbs asked, confused.

"If worst comes to worst, I don't want my car sitting overnight in this parking lot, and I definitely don't want any of the other detectives touching it," Tony said lightly. Gibbs took the keys from him, and Tony said, "I appreciate this," not elaborating, but when Gibbs grunted and said, "Not a problem," Tony felt all the unstated meaning had been understood also.

Right before they went into the club, Tony touched Gibbs on the arm to get his attention. When Gibbs looked at him, Tony said, "We're going to get her back," with quiet conviction.

Gibbs just nodded, but the small smile he gave Tony made the detective glad that he had said it.

'Walking into the club is a lot like walking into Abby's lab,' Gibbs thought as they were waved in by the man at the front door. He had been able to hear the music since they'd gotten out of the car, but as he stepped into the club, the pounding from the bass line in the music reverberated in his stomach. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust, the general lighting in the main room was dim, and bright lights flashed periodically on the dance floor and spotlights swept across the crowd, like search lights seeking a felon. Tony leaned hard against him, needing the proximity to make himself clearly heard, and said in his ear, "Game on. Let's get something from the bar and see who bites."

Looking back later, Gibbs would have to admit that the events seemed to blur together. Tony was universally popular, both men and women overtly sought him out, wanting to dance and buy him a drink, and he obliged them, flirting easily, and pressing and grinding his body against them. He was open and accessible, quick with a laugh and a smile that promised more. Gibbs watched from the bar, periodically taking the cell phone out to take a picture, acting as if he were waiting for a particular call. Tony was most definitely no stranger to the club scene, Gibbs realized. He had settled right in, and seemed to know how to silently signal his availability, and Gibbs had a few bad moments when he realized that he wasn't just tense because of the inherent danger – he was jealous. Several brave souls tried to draw Gibbs out, but a few glares and sharp words from him had them back peddling rapidly.

He had been surprised the first time Tony sidled up to him, and dragged him out on the dance floor. "This is the easiest way to talk," Tony said, by way of an explanation, as he leaned in close to Gibbs, while they moved to the music. Then, as if sensing Gibbs' unease, he grinned and said, "Don't think about trying to dance, just let yourself fall into the music, your body will take care of the rest." He stepped even closer to Gibbs, so close in fact, that his chest had been rubbing up and down Gibbs' arm.

"Was there something you needed?" Gibbs asked, uncomfortable because his body was indeed 'taking care of the rest,' when Tony just continued to dance, not saying a word.

"I wanted to make sure you were getting what you need," Tony said, and the heat that flashed in his eyes for a brief second had Gibbs wondering exactly what he was talking about. "Picture wise," he finally clarified. "Am I getting them close enough to you to get a clear shot?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's working out fine," Gibbs had answered, and then before he knew it, someone moved in close to them, and wrapped his arm around Tony's waist, drawing him away from Gibbs and claiming him for himself. Gibbs looked at the man, realizing he'd already gotten a picture of him earlier, and then abandoned Tony, wandering back to what had become his spot at the bar, inexplicably feeling abandoned.

The minutes turned into hours, as Tony danced from one person to the next, occasionally letting them press kisses on his lips, and grope at his body. His only breaks were when he and some partner would wonder off the dance floor, seeking out liquid refreshments. His face and body began to glisten from the exertion, matching the shine of his black leather vest. A couple of hours later, he once again pulled Gibbs out onto the dance floor. This time a slower song was playing, and Tony wrapped his arms around Gibbs' shoulders, forcing the older man to circle his waist with his arms, so they didn't stand out. When Gibbs did that, Tony pressed in even closer, until their groins were rubbing together. "I just needed a break," Tony breathed into his ears, as he seemingly melted into Gibbs' body, his face flushed from adrenaline, and his hair damp. "This is a lot of flirting, even for me," he said as he swayed to the music.

"Anything promising?" Gibbs managed to choke out.

"There are a couple of people more persistent than the others," Tony whispered, his hot breath tickling Gibbs' ear, and causing an involuntary shiver to run down his spine. "But no one's said anything that triggered my alarm system. That guy that cut in last time we were out here is probably the most interested," then he lapsed into silence, and drew Gibbs in closer. Gibbs hadn't been able to resist. He had tightened his arms that he had wrapped around Tony, not willing to let someone break in this time. As their hips rubbed together he became aware that he wasn't the only one responding to the friction, as erection met erection. He drew back his head until he could see Tony's face. He was shocked when what he found there was a question. When Tony ran his tongue over his lips out of nervousness, Gibbs couldn't resist, he wanted him too badly, and he had seen the open invitation on Tony's face. Releasing one arm from his waist, he raised it to Tony's head, and pulled him in for a fierce kiss. Teeth, tongues and lips pressed together with a force equal to the pressure being exerted by their groins. Finally, Gibbs regained some of his composure. "We can't do this now," he panted. "This'll have to wait until we have Abby back."

Tony looked at him, his eyes so bright they could have lit up the room in the dark like a flashlight. "Then I'd better get busy, cause I don't want to wait too long," he breathed. "I'm kind of surprised, what with your ex-wives and all," he joked, suddenly feeling a little self conscious.

"Man of varied tastes," Gibbs said, purposely echoing Tony's earlier comment. "What about you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm like an onion, without the sting," Tony quipped. "Peel back one layer and you never know what you're going to find."

Before Gibbs could respond to that, the song ended, and they had to separate. In the brief silence that followed, while the DJ switched songs, Tony said, "Going to the head," as he wandered toward the back of the club. Gibbs went back to the bar, suddenly desperately needing a Coke.

He had cooled off and was almost through with the drink, when he realized he couldn't see Tony. He scanned the crowd on the dance floor, thinking Tony may have been waylaid on his way back, expecting to find him dancing on the far side of the crowd, but unable to see him. Setting his glass down on the bar, he eased off his stool, and walked along the edge of the dance floor, headed in the general direction of the restrooms. Not seeing him anywhere, Gibbs decided to go into the bathroom, to make sure he was okay. When he entered, he found a small crowd of men, clustered around the sinks and urinals, but no sign of Tony. "Tony?" he said loudly, so as to be heard over the music, waiting for a response from the stalls. When he didn't answer, Gibbs tried calling his name again. Getting no response this time either, he knocked on both stall doors, but the angry voices which answers were not Tony's. Darting back out, he ran a quick inspection of all the tables that were scattered around, once again not finding the detective.

For the second time that day, his gut began to tighten. Futilely, he wished this had been an NCIS operation. Then he would have been equipped with a listening device and a mike, so that he could speak to the detectives stationed outside the club. Instead, he was going to have to go out and find them. Hopefully at least one team was now busily engaged in following Tony and the perp. With any luck, they'd have Abby and Tony back within the hour, he assured himself. As he hurried out the front doors, he tried to ignore the warning his stomach was sending him.


	7. Chapter 7

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Seven**

Exiting the club, Gibbs pushed through the noisy and restless crowd that was gathered outside the front door, ignoring the grumbled complaints of the people he had to elbow out of his way. When he got to the parking lot, he looked around and saw the unmarked police car that held two of the detectives, still sitting there. He hurried over to them and knocked on the window. When the detective rolled down the window, Gibbs asked, "Did Tony come out through the front?"

"Huh?" the detective said. "We haven't seen him since you both went in."

"What about the guys covering the back?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

"I don't know. You'd think they'd let us know if they had," the detective said, looking somewhat confused. "Let me ask them," and he reached for his radio. While he waited, Gibbs scanned the parking lot, hoping futilely to see Tony. There were clumps of people gathered around various cars, drinking, smoking and making out, but no a sign of the younger man.

"Hey," the detective said into the mic, "did DiNozzo come out the back?"

"Hang on. We're not there right now," Gibbs could hear the man on the other end answer. "Just went around the corner to get some coffee from Dawson and take a wiz. You should see Dawson headed your way soon. He said he was bringing you some coffee, too. Give me a sec, and we'll be back to the car and I'll take a look around when I get there."

Gibbs started to curse silently when he heard that. Looking back around he saw Dawson heading his way, carrying two cups of coffee, and his blood began to boil. "Of all the fucking incompetence!" Gibbs said out loud. "What in the hell are you doing over here?" he bellowed at the man.

Dawson stared at him as if he'd sprouted a second head. "Ease up, Gibbs. What's got your panties in a wad?" Dawson asked.

"DiNozzo went to the bathroom and never came back," Gibbs snapped. "I think the perp may have taken him out the back, but your men weren't in place, so we don't know for sure!" Gibbs snapped, wanting desperately to shove his fist down the pompous ass' throat.

"Not a big deal," Dawson said, hoping to calm Gibbs down. "He's got the tracking device on. We can just follow it. There's no reason to have a snit."

Gibbs fixed the man with a cold stare and held his eyes until Dawson was forced to look away. Then he said, "We could be doing that right now, if you were at your station. Is anyone watching the monitor at least?" he asked, although he knew the answer would be no, otherwise they would have already been alerted.

A slight shift from one foot to the other was the only sign Dawson gave to indicate that he knew that he'd screwed up. His face became belligerent, and he huffed out, "I'm not sure. It was my turn to get everyone coffee, and Anderson stayed back in the van. He should be there, although he might have stepped out for a smoke. We've been in position for over four hours," he said, as if that should excuse everything, but by that time he was talking to the air. Gibbs was already moving, headed towards the street where the surveillance van was parked, so furious he could barely see where he was going.

"Stay here," Dawson ordered sharply to the two detectives sitting in the car, needing to reassert his authority, as he turned to follow Gibbs. He got a few steps, realized he was still holding the coffees, and turned back around, thrusting the cups through the still open window, then rushed off after the NCIS agent, muttering, "Fucking feds! Always think they're better than everyone else."

When Gibbs got closer to the van, he saw Anderson, the detective working with Dawson, leaning against the van, a cell phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He didn't even bother addressing the detective when he got up to the van, he merely reached over and yanked the back doors open and climbed in. Looking at the monitor, which was mounted on a small stand, he saw a map and a moving circle. He was momentarily relieved, that meant that the device was working. Unfortunately, it also meant that the perp had Tony. He thought back, wondering how much of a head start the killer had. He had been so taken aback by what had happened on the dance floor, lost in his own meditations, that he hadn't been paying close attention. For all he knew, it could have been as many as fifteen minutes. Then, if you added on the time he spent looking for Tony in the club, and the time it had taken him to get here, the perp could be a half hour ahead of them. This realization just fueled his anger, which was now directed at himself as well as the Baltimore detectives. 'Pull your head out of your ass, Gibbs. No time for self-recrimination now,' he told himself. 'We're just going to have to catch up.' By the time he'd backed out of the van, Dawson had caught up to him.

"The signal's moving," Gibbs said. "We need to get a move on," he ordered, as he went to the front of the van, and opened the front passenger side door.

Anderson, who had been listening, scrambled into the back, and Dawson slid in behind the wheel and started up the vehicle, ignoring the glares Gibbs was sending his way as best he could. "Which way?" he called to the man in the back.

"Head north," Anderson called from the front. "He's on Highway 70, headed west." Gibbs then heard him talking into a mic, passing the information on to the other cars.

"How far away is he?" Gibbs asked tensely.

"He's really moving," Anderson called up. "He's about 20 miles away now. But I'd say he's going at least 65 mph. He'll be able to get further ahead, before we get to the highway," he continued, knowing that they would be slowed down by city traffic.

Dawson had reached up and fastened a flashing light to the outside of the van, which would allow them to go a little faster, but Gibbs realized there was a limit to how fast the van would be able to move. They pulled out, and Dawson headed towards the highway, weaving in and out of traffic as they went. Gibbs remained silent, as there was nothing he could say to make the situation any better, and the things he really wanted to say would only make matters worse. Every once in a while Gibbs could hear Anderson updating the other cars as to the perp's location, and he could only hope the other cars were able to move faster than the van. About twenty minutes into the trip he heard Anderson call out.

"The signal's stopped moving. The perp must have pulled over somewhere," he said excitedly. "We've got him!"

"See, told you it'd be okay," Dawson said smugly to Gibbs, and yet again Gibbs wanted to physically wipe the accompanying smirk off Dawson's face. "Is he still on 70?" Dawson then asked Anderson.

"Looks like he pulled off on an exit. I'm trying for the name now; it must be some small road, because the map doesn't have it listed." GPS tracking was relatively new for the Baltimore Police Force, and they were still working out the kinks; in addition, their system hadn't been designed for long distant tracking. "Rocky Bluff. It's an exit called Rocky Bluff," he said excitedly. "He's almost to Frederick," Anderson said, citing a town about an hour west of Baltimore. "Um, Lou, he's way out of our jurisdiction. What do you want to do?"

"We're not doing anything but continuing. We're just assisting a fed, after all, and jurisdiction isn't a problem for him. Relay the info to the other cars. Tell them to wait for us before apprehending." Dawson looked over at Gibbs, challenging him to disagree.

Much as he would have liked to, just on principle, Gibbs was more interested in getting Abby and Tony back, than winning a pissing match. Ignoring the blatant antagonism in Dawson's expression, he nodded his agreement. "How far behind are we now?" he called back to Anderson.

"He's almost a half hour ahead of us," was the reply. "The other cars are a little closer; maybe only twenty minutes away."

"Tell them to set up surveillance, but not to approach," Gibbs ordered.

"Um, I don't have a tracker on the other two cars," Anderson stuttered.

"So?" Gibbs asked.

"I won't be able to tell when they're really close," Anderson admitted. "It looks like he's on some little country road, and the map's not giving me much information. I was able to figure out what exit he took, but they'll have to wait for us to get his exact location."

"Oh all the …." Gibbs exploded, and then bit his tongue. Going off on the cop wasn't going to help the situation, and he was going to need them when they got there.

"Can you tell how far from the exit he is?" Gibbs asked.

"Looks like about a mile and a half," Anderson said.

"Tell the others to wait for us right off the exit ramp and we'll go in together," Gibbs said, unable to plan more until he could see what they were up against. "Can you get us any other information on the area?"

"I could call the locals, but then they'd want in on it," was the answer. "Do you want me to do that?"

Gibbs thought about it for a minute. It was bad enough he had to put up with the detectives' incompetence, did he really want to add more to the mix? His other fear was that he wouldn't be able to control the locals, never having met them. What if they started looking for something unusual before they caught up to them? If the perp saw them, he might get scared and rabbit. "No, hold off on that," he finally answered. He didn't like it, but it seemed like the best answer.

They spent a tense twenty minutes, no one saying much of anything, as they roared down Highway 70, to the Rocky Bluff exit. Unable to plan anything yet, Gibbs' mind was free to wander. He wondered if Tony was with Abby right now. He hoped so. He didn't like to think about her scared and alone. He felt confident that Tony would know what to do to calm her down, provided Tony was okay. Not knowing how the perp had gotten Tony out of the club worried him. Gibbs knew Tony wouldn't have willingly stepped out with him, unless he knew for sure that the person was the killer, and he couldn't see how that would have happened. He had no idea what shape the younger man would be in. Had the killer used chloroform on him? Had he drawn a gun or knife? Hit him over the head? There were so many ways it could have been accomplished, and none of them were good. And that got him to thinking about Tony and the club.

It had been a long time since he'd taken to someone so quickly. Gibbs was slow to warm to people, and even more reticent to place his trust in another. He'd taken too many personal hits over the years to allow strangers the opportunity to get too close to him. And yet, here he was, contemplating doing just that with someone he'd met that very day. 'How did that happened?' he wondered. The young man had first impressed him with his creative thinking and dedication to solving the case. He'd found him interesting and funny. He'd then become fascinated with the things Tony didn't talk about, like his background. Later there had been the way he moved and looked. He remembered what Tony's skin had felt like, as he'd rested his hands on the strip of bare skin between his vest and the top of his jeans - hot, damp and smooth, and when he ran his tongue over his lips he thought he could taste Tony's lips all over again. He remembered his own surprise when he'd felt Tony erect and hungry for him, and saw desire and promise painted large on his face. 'This isn't good,' he shook himself out of his reverie. He couldn't afford to be off his game – not when Tony's and Abby's safety depended on it.

"How far now?" he asked Anderson, needing to get back on track.

"We're almost to the exit, now. Just a couple more miles," the detective answered.

"Pull over when we get up by the other two cars, so we can figure out what we're going to do," Gibbs told Dawson.

"Had intended to," the lieutenant snapped. He'd been silent for the better part of the last half hour. Gibbs didn't know if that was because he'd been concentrating on driving, or because he was pissed off, and he didn't care. As long as the man did what he was told, Gibbs was willing to ignore the rest – for now, at any rate.

In a matter of minutes later, they had pulled up behind the two other cars. Dawson, Gibbs and Anderson climbed out of the van, and crossed over to the other four detectives who were lounging against one of the cars. After a short discussion, which consisted primarily of Gibbs telling them how things were going to work, it was decided that the four detectives would stay where they were, while Gibbs, Anderson, and Dawson took the van to discover where the tracking device had stopped. Then, after they had scoped out the area and knew what they were dealing with, they would go back and plan how to approach the perp. They were all assuming that he'd gone to where ever he was keeping his victims, now that he had Tony, and they didn't want to draw his attention by having three vehicles pass by his hideout, since the area seemed rather deserted.

Once they were back in the van, Anderson told Dawson where to proceed. Looking out the window, there was very little to see except acre after acre of corn and soy beans. When they had gone almost a mile, Anderson called up to Dawson, "It looks like he turned off to the right about a quarter of mile ahead."

When they came to the end of an immense corn field, Gibbs was surprised when they were greeted by a large wooden sign that said, '4-H Fairgrounds'.

"Here – there should be somewhere to turn right, here," Anderson called up to them, unable to see out as there were no windows in the back of the van.

Dawson slowed the van down to an idle, and looked over at Gibbs. "What do you want to do?" he asked, as he looked at the entrance drive to the fair grounds.

"Is there any way to take the monitor out of the van and carry it with us?" Gibbs asked Anderson.

"Not really," was the unhappy answer.

"Can you tell how far away the signal is?" Gibbs asked.

"About 800 yards," Anderson answered, after punching something into the keyboard attached to the computer running the monitor.

"Do you have another tracking device," he asked, when something occurred to him.

"Yeah," the detective said, sounding confused.

"What about walkie-talkies?" he asked, not bothering to explain his plan yet.

"Uh huh," Anderson answered.

"Why?" Dawson was unable to resist asking.

"If you hook me up to the extra tracker, you should be able to tell me when I'm getting close, right?" Gibbs asked Anderson, ignoring Dawson.

"Yeah," Anderson said, a smile slowly forming on his lips. "That could work. I could let you know over the walkies if you were getting off track."

"How long will it take you to get it set up?" Gibbs asked then.

"Almost no time at all. The tracker's already calibrated for this monitor. Tech sent it along as a backup in case something happened to the one in Tony's collar. You can just shove it in your pocket after I turn it on."

"I'm going with you," Dawson decreed.

"We need to find somewhere to park the van other than in the middle of the drive. Then you'll need to get a flashlight," Gibbs said, letting the order function as his acquiescence. He wasn't happy about it, but he knew it was better not to go in without some backup, and Dawson was going to have to do.

"Let's not pull it in there," Dawson said. "If we park it back just a few hundred feet and shut the motor off, it shouldn't call any attention to itself," he finished, already backing the van up.

It didn't take long before Gibbs and Dawson were creeping onto the fair grounds. Dawson carried the walkie, and checked periodically with Anderson to make sure they were heading in the right direction. Gibbs didn't speak, focusing all his attention on their surroundings, watching for any sign of movement. He wasn't happy about what they'd discovered. He didn't understand why the perp had turned in here. It didn't look like there was a camping area. Maybe there was some kind of structure people didn't use often up ahead, but that seemed like an iffy proposition. He'd expected the killer to stash his victims somewhere totally private. This didn't seem to make sense, and that made him uneasy.

When they had been walking for about five minutes, they came to an empty picnic area and parking lot, complete with wooden tables and a small playground. The walkie softly crackled, and Dawson whispered into it, conferring with Anderson. When he disconnected, he stopped and looked around.

"Gibbs," he said aloud.

Gibbs whirled around to face him, angered that he'd spoken so loud. He took a couple of steps back so that he was right next to him.

"Anderson says the chip is only a few hundred feet to our right," Dawson said, his tone of voice having changed drastically as he ignored the glare Gibbs was giving him.

Gibbs felt his stomach sink. There wasn't anything to their right except some picnic tables he remembered. He turned and looked anyway, hoping he'd missed something, but saw nothing different. It was dark, and he couldn't see a lot of detail, but there was no way he'd be able to miss something as large as a person.

"Let's go look. Let me have the flashlight," his voice was flat and expressionless as he spoke to Dawson and held out his hand for the light. He squared his shoulders and began to head towards the tables, the detective on his heels, once again speaking into the walkie-talkie.

Gibbs swept the light across the ground as they went. When they got closer, he saw a pile of something on the ground next to a picnic table that was by the parking area. Gibbs hurried towards it, although he was sure he knew what he was going to find. Shining the light on the pile, he wasn't surprised by what it revealed. "Do you have any gloves on you?" he asked Dawson.

"Yeah, hang on," Dawson answered, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out a pair that he then handed to Gibbs. For once his voice held no antagonism. They both knew what the pile meant.

After pulling the gloves on, Gibbs crouched down and began to examine what was stacked there. Tony's leather vest lay on top of his boots, and a pair of socks had been shoved into the opening of one of the boots. Tony's wrist gauntlets and collar, the tracking device firmly attached to it, and still hidden by the tape that had been placed over it to disguise it, had been placed in the other boot. When he unfolded the vest he saw two things that made him even more unhappy. The laces fell out, clearly having been cut open with something sharp, most likely a knife, and in the center of the vest sat a gun, still nestled in it's ankle holster. Gibbs put them down, and stood back up.

"Give your men a call," he said to Dawson. "We've got to process this area as best we can." Then he said what they both knew, "We missed him."

While they waited for the other detectives, Gibbs pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number.

"Liz," he said, when the phone was answered. Pausing while she said something to him, he then said, "I need you in Baltimore. I'm going to have some evidence I need processed, and I've got a series of photos I need you to run through the facial recognition program. Meet me at the precinct."

He listened again, and then said, "I don't know, Liz. I'm about an hour away from Baltimore right now, and we're going to have to process the area first." He paused. "I'll explain that to you when I get back to the precinct. I don't know any more about Abby, yet. I'm hoping the stuff I give you will give us a clue."

After Gibbs hung up, he took the flashlight and started to search the area, looking for anything worth collecting. He found a few pieces of the laces to Tony's vest on the edge of the parking lot, and tire tracks in the dirt of the parking lot. Shining the light around in the area, he also found a wet area. When the detectives got to the parking lot, he had them take a sample of the fluid, and take pictures of everything else. He wasn't happy when he discovered that they didn't have anything to make a mold of the tire track, but he knew that was being unfair to them. They were city cops, not crime scene specialists. He was lucky they'd even had equipment to take samples, since no one had expected the night to end the way it had. Tony's clothes were bagged and tagged, and the picnic table dusted for prints. When they had done all they could, it was decided that two of the detectives would stay there until they could get someone out to lift the tire track, while the others returned to the city.

The mood had shifted perceptibly as they worked together collecting any evidence they could. The detectives' anger and hostility had faded some as they were faced with the physical evidence that represented the real danger Tony and Abby faced. It was one thing to look at names on a murder board in the precinct, or even to see the dead bodies down in the morgue – there was nothing but justice left for those people. But it was quite another to handle the clothes that a very live victim had so recently been wearing, - especially when you knew the victim. As much as they might have resented Gibbs' presence, they were aware that he knew not one, but both of the killer's current captives. So, although the return trip to Baltimore was as quiet as it had been earlier, it was a quiet produced by private thoughts and worries, not unspoken accusations and contempt. For his part, Gibbs sat silent also, lost in a world of self recrimination and fear.


	8. Chapter 8

**_****A/N: Please be aware that this chapter contains violence and a nonconsensual sexual encounter.*****_ **

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Eight**

Once Tony woke up, it took him time to clear his head enough to be able to will his eyes open. When he finally succeeded, he saw a pair of bright green eyes, just inches away from his own, staring down at him. The eyes were rimmed in black, although sections of the liner had streaked down the cheeks of the face the eyes were housed in, suggesting that the owner had been crying. Before he could register on more, he had to close his eyes again for several minutes, as a debilitating wave of nausea swept over him. As he rode out the dizziness associated with it, he wondered if the face had been real. He was confused, his brain was reacting sluggishly, and he wasn't sure what had happened to him. The last thing he clearly recalled was walking out into the hallway where the bathrooms were located at the club. Someone had jostled into him he remembered, but couldn't recall anything after that. Since that was getting him anywhere, he forced himself to concentrate on the here and now. When he felt steady enough to open his eyes again, the face was gone. He tried to open his mouth to call out, only to discover he was gagged. That discovery caused him to make a fast inventory of the rest of his body. He was lying down on something cool, which he assumed was cement, and the fact he could feel the cold and dampness seeping in through his back suggested that he wasn't wearing his vest anymore. Although he couldn't see his feet from his prone position, it felt as if they were bare and something had been wrapped around his left one. His hands were resting on his right hip, and when he tried to move one, he discovered they were cuffed together.

His silent inventory was interrupted when he heard a voice say, "You're awake again!" It was low and a bit gravelly, but distinctly female. He tried to struggle to an upright position for a better look, his body not cooperating well and his arms inexplicably unable to move much, when the voice spoke again. "Don't try to sit up yet. It takes a while for the effects of the chloroform to wear off, and you don't want to vomit, since you're gagged. I would have taken it off, except _my_ hands are cuffed behind my back. I could have used my teeth, but I didn't think you'd want to wake up to find me gnawing at your mouth."

Despite the circumstances, the visual image that last statement conjured up for Tony caused him to laugh. The sound was muffled by the gag, but must have been recognizable, for the woman also began to giggle, her laughter getting louder as she moved closer to Tony again.

When he could see her face again, she said, "Hi, I'm Abby. I'd shake your hand, but well, you know," and for some reason that set them both off again. "I think this may be caused by hysteria, but it feels good to laugh," she gasped out finally.

Tony studied her for a minute. She did indeed look like a Goth. Her hair was jet black, with short blunt bangs cut into the front. At the moment, it hung down around her shoulders in a slightly knotted mess. It was clear that his first impression had been right. She had been crying, the mascara trails gave her away. She was dressed in a black tank top and short black skirt, and her legs were bare. A black studded leather collar was secured around her neck, and he could see the edges of a large webbed tattoo on her neck. All things considered, she could have been in much worse shape, he told himself, and he was impressed that she seemed so composed.

Tony resumed his struggle to sit up, finally succeeding, and took the time to look around him. The room they were in was dark, but some light filtered in from metal barred windows placed high on the walls, suggesting that they were in a basement. A pillow and blanket sat on the floor not far from Abby, and there was a set of stairs against one wall; a water heater sat against another wall. Otherwise, the space was empty. When he looked down, he was able to confirm that his hands had been cuffed together, and one of the leg straps to his belt had been looped through the chain between the two sides, effectively securing his arms down. He also saw that the leather gauntlets had been removed from his wrists, and his vest was indeed gone. That caused him to think of something, and rolling his head and neck, he tried see if he could feel the collar. When his chin brushed against leather he relaxed somewhat. If the collar was still in place, they'd be able to track him, and rescue both Abby and himself. His feet were indeed bare, and one ankle had been tied with a rope, which was secured to a u-hook bolt in the wall. Apparently the perp hadn't felt the same need with Abby, since she seemed to be able to move freely about the basement. He wiggled his leg and looked pointedly at Abby. Once he had her attention, he did it again, and this time looked at her leg.

"Oh, got ya," she said. "He tied up my leg when he first brought me here, too, but didn't bother with retying me, last time he was here. I'm not sure why. That was when he brought you in. It's been several hours since then. The sun came up about an hour ago, so it must be about six thirty in the morning," she added. "I think he thought I'd be asleep. He held a cloth up to my face, after he let me go to the bathroom, but I'd learned by then. I figured it had chloroform on it, so I held my breath, and just pretended to pass out. He didn't seem that interested in me last night anyway, so he bought it." She stopped talking and just looked at Tony, her expression hard to read.

Tony could tell she had thought about saying more, but decided against it. He looked up at the ceiling, and then back at Abby, raising an eyebrow, hoping that would suggest to her what he was wondering.

"This is like playing charades, minus the party atmosphere, friends and liquid refreshments of course," Abby commented, as she watched him look toward the ceiling again. "Okay, upstairs?" she asked.

Tony nodded his head.

"I'm not sure what's upstairs. I haven't been there. I can hear him slid a bolt when he goes up, so there didn't seem to be any point to trying the door. He brings a bucket down for me to use as a restroom. Not exactly private, but you gotta do, what you gotta do," she said philosophically, although she looked a little embarrassed. "He brings water and sandwiches, too," she added as an afterthought.

Tony wiggled his arms and looked at his wrist.

"The handcuffs?" Abby guessed.

Tony shook his head. Experimenting, he discovered he could touch his opposite wrist with his index finger. Making sure Abby was watching him, he tapped on his wrist, where a watch might be, and then moved his jaw, as if chewing. He repeated each gesture a couple of times, while Abby watched, trying to puzzle out what he meant.

"Chewing?" she asked.

Tony nodded encouragingly, and tapped on his wrist again.

"A watch," she said. When he nodded, she smiled. "Oh, I've got it," she squealed with delight, and bounced up and down a bit. "I've always been good at this game. A watch – -time- – what time does he bring food?" she said, looking at Tony to see if she had really gotten it right. When he nodded again, she answered. "Yesterday he brought food twice. I'd guess once was in the morning and once was several hours later, but before he brought you in. Maybe he'll be back down here soon, with more," she guessed. "I've only been here since Sunday night, so it isn't as if we have an established pattern," she explained to Tony. "Don't worry, though. We won't be here much longer."

When Tony looked confused she explained further. "I work for NCIS – that stands for Naval Criminal Investigative Service, and my boss is badass! He's bound to be looking for me by now, and Leroy Jethro Gibbs – that's his name – always gets his man. He'll rescue us before you know it," she asserted.

As she had been talking, Tony remembered something. Gibbs had said her parents were deaf. That meant she'd know ASL. Silently offering belated thanks to the stuffy instructor he'd had at the Police Academy who'd insisted they know how to identify themselves as police officers in every major language, he nodded his head to get Abby to focus on him. Then looking down at his hands, he forced his right one to make the letter 'C', ignoring the pain it caused him, as he twisted his wrists in the cuffs.

"Okay, hang on, let me guess," Abby said, as if he was going to interrupt her. "Um, you want to grab something?" she hazarded.

Tony shook his head, and this time tried pointing to himself, which was harder to do because of the way his wrists were threaded through his belt. When she didn't say anything right away, he tried again, this time leaning forward some, so as to make it clearer that he was pointing to himself.

"You?" she asked.

Tony nodded. Again he pointed to himself, and then made the letter 'C'. This time he made sound effects. He mumbled into his gag, and then shook his head and did the sign all over again.

"Um, you can't talk?" Abby asked. When Tony nodded encouragingly and made the sign again, he could see her start to get it. "Wait, you can't talk," she said excitedly. "So you'd have to sign. Oh, oh! You're a cop!" she announced, and then seemed to realize she'd been rather loud. She dropped her volume down to a whisper and said, "You're a cop? Is that right?" she asked him.

Tony nodded, and tried to smile with his eyes, since he couldn't use his mouth.

"Do you know Bossman?" she asked.

Tony didn't know what she meant, and he scrunched his face up to express his confusion.

"Bossman, my boss," she explained, "Gibbs."

Tony nodded his head.

"Were you working with him?" she guessed.

Again Tony nodded.

"So, this was like some undercover thing?" she asked, and when he confirmed her guess, she added, "I'll bet he's pissed that it went wrong. I'm sure he hadn't …."

Tony was shaking his head, trying to tell her that this was part of the plan, when he heard a sound coming from the door at the top of the stairs. Abby fell silent, when she, too heard the noise. She looked over at Tony, her eyes wide, and he could see fear creep back into them. He held her eyes, trying to transmit reassurances silently as he heard the sound of a door creaking open. Abby broke eye contact, her eyes darting towards the stairs.

Tony turned his head to look also, and saw a pair of legs and a bucket descending. After a few more steps, Tony could see the whole man. He immediately recognized him from the club last night. He'd danced with this guy several times. As a matter of fact, the man had even cut in on he and Gibbs, the first time they'd danced. They'd talked, and although the guy had seemed seriously interested, he'd done nothing to trigger Tony's alarms. He was close to Tony's age, and nice looking – tall and broad, his short blonde hair neatly combed, and his clothes well fitted, if not remarkable. Tony tried to recall what he'd said his name was, but couldn't. He'd danced with so many people the night before , none of whom stood out; they had all started to run together, and then he'd become distracted by Gibbs, and his focus had gone to hell.

"Good, you're awake, Tony," the man said, when he got to the bottom of the stairs. "I'm glad you could come home with me," he said, addressing Tony like he was a willing guest. "And I see you've met Abby. She's lovely isn't she – all that porcelain skin against her raven hair. Just the kind of girl your mother warned you about, right?" he asked Tony and then laughed, as if they were sharing a private joke, and he came to stand next to where Tony sat. Before he spoke again, he set the large bucket he was carrying down. "Of course, I don't think Mother would approve of you, either," he said to Tony, as he reached out and ran his hand through Tony's hair. Tony jerked his head away, and the man made a tsk, tsk sound. "You really are a bad boy. Imagine my surprise when I found that gun strapped to your leg. If you dressed a little more conservatively, you might not have to carry a gun to protect yourself. But  
I've got you now, so you won't be needing it anymore. You look so much better, now that I've made a few small adjustments. You were on the right track, but you hadn't gotten it quite right," he added, almost talking to himself. Tony briefly wondered what he was talking about, but dismissed the thought, knowing he should focus on the man.

His captor paused, and slid his hand out of Tony's hair and grasped Tony's chin, dragging his head up so he could see him better. "Of course, Abby might not be happy with you. After all, you've crashed our date. I don't know how she's going to feel about that," he said.

Then, still not releasing Tony's face, he turned to look at Abby, who sat frozen, like a deer in headlights. "He's not a good boy, Abby. He flirts with everyone, man or woman, it doesn't matter. You should have seen him at the club last night. Normally I wouldn't have brought someone here so soon, since we haven't really had time to get to know each other, but he was begging for it. Look at his pants, and that belt. Those straps wrapped around his legs are just begging for someone to grab his cock. If I hadn't asked him here, someone else would have taken him home, and he might have gotten hurt. As a matter of fact, it almost happened right before we left. So you can see how I didn't have any choice," he said.

Abby just stared at him. His voice had taken on a pleading quality, as if he was asking for her forgiveness. Gathering her wits about her, Abby said, "Right. Sure. So, maybe you should just let him go now. You kept him safe, and I'm sure he'll promise never to do something like that again. Besides, I don't want to share," she managed to choke out, even though she didn't sound very convincing.

Tony was amazed by her bravery. He couldn't believe Abby was willing to sacrifice herself to save a total stranger. He tried to look over at her, but when he attempted to move his head, the man's grip on his chin tightened. "Is that true, Tony?" he asked. "Would you promise to be good?"

Tony attempted to nod his head, thinking that was what the man wanted. Instead of approval, however, the man released his face and backhanded him hard. "Don't lie to me, you slut!" he yelled. Momentarily stunned, Tony shook his head, trying to clear it. He thought he heard Abby scream, but couldn't hear properly because of the buzzing in his ears. Looking up, he saw the killer approaching her.

"Don't cry, Abby. He's not worth it." The man ran his hand down her hair, petting her like a cat. "Shhhh, it's okay," he said soothingly. "He needs to learn a lesson. You'll see," he said. He reached over and pulled the bucket closer to him. Reaching in, he drew out two bottles of water, one of which he put on the ground. Opening the other, he held it by the sobbing woman's face. "Here Abby, take a sip of this. You'll feel better. Come on, open up," he pleaded when she just turned her head away. "How about if I uncuffed you while you drink the water?" he asked. "Would that make you feel better? Then maybe you could quit crying?"

He put the water down, and reached into his pants pocket. Unclipping a set of keys from a belt loop where they had been hooked, he thumbed through them until he found the right one. Crouching down behind Abby, he inserted the key into the lock of her cuffs and released her hands. He hooked one of the open cuffs to his belt to get it out of the way. "Don't do anything foolish, Abby," he cautioned. "I don't want to have to hurt you. I've got a gun, and would hate to have to use it. Act like the good girl I know you are, and I'll keep them off until I'm ready to leave." He stood again, reclipped the keys, and gestured to the bucket. "Unfortunately I've got to go to work soon, but I thought you might need to use this." He reached into the bucket again, and pulled out a glass bottle and a rag, which he stuffed into the pockets of his pants, then he pushed the bucket over towards her.

He stepped back over to Tony and said, "I'll make sure Tony doesn't watch." He grabbed Tony's hair and pulled it, forcing his head to look away from Abby.

Abby wasn't happy about the situation, but knew it would be foolish not to take the opportunity to relieve herself. She had no way of knowing when the man would be back. Trying to get herself back under control, she watched him out of the corner of her eye, as she used the bucket. She could tell he was looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and knew she wouldn't have any opportunity for escape this time. Besides, she didn't want him to hurt the policeman- 'Tony' - she corrected herself. "I'm done," she called to him, when she was finished and covered back up. "Thank you for uncuffing me," she added.

He released Tony, and came over to her again. "Anything for my lovely lady," he said. "Now, I'm afraid I really should put the cuffs back on, if you aren't going to drink any of the water."

"What about food?" Abby asked, not at all sure she could even swallow something, but trying to stall the inevitable.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," he said. "I'm out of bread. I'll bring you something special tonight, when I come home to make up for it. Alright?" he asked.

Abby didn't really have any choice but to agree. Taking a risk, she asked, "Would you do something else for me, to help make up for it?" She tried to make her voice light and flirtatious, although she wasn't sure how successful she'd been.

"If I can," he said. "What would you like?"

"My shoulders ache from the way they've been pulled back. Do you think you could cuff me with my hands in front this time?" she asked, thinking that might allow her to at least get the gag out of Tony's mouth.

He looked at her, and then looked around the room. Seeing nothing for her to get into, he smiled and said, "Of course. I should have thought of that. I'm so sorry, Princess. Hold out your hands." When she complied, he refastened the cuffs onto her wrists. When he'd pulled on them, to make sure the lock had caught, he reached up, and wiped away the remaining tears. "He's not worth these, Abby. You weren't there last night. You didn't see him. I'll show you something in a while, and then you'll understand," he said.

Going back over to Tony, he reached down and wrapped his arms under Tony's armpits. "Stand up," he ordered, as he helped Tony scramble to his feet. Once Tony was upright, the man reached down again and tugged on the rope wrapped around Tony's ankle, checking to make sure it was secure. Satisfied with what he found, he looked at Tony and asked, "Do you need to go to the bathroom, too?"

Tony nodded, knowing it would be stupid to try and be stoic. The man used his foot to push the bucket over to Tony and then unbuckled the strap that had anchored the cuffs to Tony's hip. Tony was relieved when he did that. 'It's going to be a lot easier if I can at least move my arms," he thought.

While he had been thinking, the man had unbuckled the other leg strap as well. "I'm going to take your pretty belt off now, Tony. You won't be needing it anymore, anyway," he said, as he released the buckle on the hip portion. When he had slid the belt completely off him, Tony reached for his fly. He didn't look over at Abby, sure that she would look away while he took care of business. He was surprised but relieved when the man stepped behind him, while he awkwardly opened his pants and positioned himself better over the bucket. When he was done, he reached down, intending to close up his pants. He didn't get too far, before the man reached around his body and grabbed the chain to the cuffs, stopping his hands from pulling his jeans up the rest of the way and closing his fly.

"Leave it alone," the man ordered; his voice had completely changed. It was lower and gruffer. When Tony tried to pull his hands away, the man pressed into Tony's back and wrapped his other arm around Tony's neck. "Leave it alone, I said. Do what I say, and I won't hurt you or Abby." He tightened the arm encircling Tony's neck to prove his point.

Tony knew he didn't have much choice. His one leg was tied up, and his hands were secured by the handcuffs. Plus, he didn't want to get Abby hurt. He relaxed his arms, and tried to nod, signaling his submission to the man. In exchange, the arm around his throat eased up.

"Abby," the man said. "I need you to watch this. I'm sorry to put you through this, but you need to understand what I was talking about. You need to know why I can't just let him go." Then he let go of the cuffs, and yanked down hard on Tony's jeans, fully exposing Tony. "Look at this Abby. He's not even wearing underwear. Tell me he wasn't asking for it." Then the hand around Tony's neck slid down, until it was on Tony's chest and he pulled back hard, anchoring Tony's body firmly against him, so that his struggles were futile. His other hand reached down and encircled Tony's cock and began to stroke and tease it. Against Tony's will, his body began to naturally respond to the physical stimulation, and he turned his head away from Abby in shame. The hand on his chest began to pinch and tease at his nipples, in a lewd parody of love making.

"See, Abby. Can you see what a slut he is? He wouldn't really behave if I let him go. Look at this. I could be anybody. Now do you understand why I had to take him? Surely you don't blame me now," he explained to her, totally unaware of the fact that he was rubbing his body against Tony's. This went on for some time, Tony struggling while the man molested him, and Abby sitting, sobbing loudly across the room, with her face turned away. The man seemed to forget about her, as he continued his attack on Tony's body, calling him a series of foul names, all the time seemingly unaware of what his own body was doing. Finally the man gasped and shuddered. He shoved Tony to the ground and bent slightly, trying to catch his breath. When he finally had himself somewhat under control, he looked down at where Tony sat hunched over, his face buried in his arms in humiliation. The man kicked Tony viciously in the head and screamed, "Look at what you made me do! You made Abby think I was unfaithful. You'd better think about your behavior while I'm gone," he ranted. Of course, the only person who heard him was Abby. Tony lay unconscious on the ground.

The man turned to the weeping girl and said in his normal voice, "I'm so sorry Abby. I told you he was a bad boy. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Just ignore him while I'm gone, and I'll bring you a treat when I come home."

Abby's only response was a soft sob. He crossed over to her, and reached out to stroke her hair, but she shied away from his touch. He dropped to his knees, and pulled her to him, ignoring the way her body stiffened. "Please don't be sad. I only love you. I promise." He pressed a kiss to her head, and then stood up again. He reached into his pockets and pulled out the rag and bottle. Uncapping it, he poured some of the liquid onto the rag, and quickly recapped the bottle. Then he bent down and said, "Here, breathe this. When you wake up it will all be better. You'll see." He lifted the cloth up to her face, and held it for a minute. When she slumped to the ground, he removed the rag and stood back up.

Crossing over to Tony's body, he kicked him once more, this time in the lower back. "She's mad at me, now, and it's all your fault," he screamed at the inert body. Then he stomped up the stairs and slammed the door shut behind him.

Abby waited until she heard the bolt slide into place, then she sat up, forcing herself to not cry. Once again, she had successfully held her breath when he'd pressed the rag close to her face. She lifted her hands to her face and tried to wipe away the tears that remained. She was shaking, slightly in shock from what she had witnessed. She looked over at Tony's body and had to fight the urge to start crying again. She couldn't give into that now; that wasn't going to help Tony.

She waited a bit, until she thought enough time had passed for their captor to have left for work, then she stood on shaky legs and went over to Tony. He was still unconscious, and there was a cut and a large red welt on his right temple, where he'd been so savagely kicked. Another bruise was beginning to form on his back. There wasn't much she could do for his injuries, but she could at least do some things that might make him more comfortable when he woke up. She struggled to pull his pants back up and get them closed. Then it took her several more minutes to untie the knot holding the gag in place. She was so thankful the man had agreed to cuff her hands in front of her body, otherwise she wouldn't have been able to do either of these things. His skin felt cold and clammy to her while she had struggled to redress him, and she stood again and got the pillow and cover the man arranged for her the night before. She worked the pillow under Tony's head and then covered him with the blanket. All the while he lay on his side, oblivious to her ministrations. With nothing left to do, she sat down by the pillow and began to hum softly. She reached her hands out, until they were touching his head, and then she began to gently run her fingers through his hair, waiting for him to awaken.


	9. Chapter 9

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Nine**

Liz Templeton had been sitting in the near empty Homicide squad room for almost two hours by the time Gibbs, Dawson, and the Lieutenant's detectives returned. In those two hours, she had quietly simmered until she'd reached a slow boil. It had begun when, after identifying herself, the few detectives left at the precinct had asked her what was happening with the undercover mission, and she'd had to admit she had no idea what they were talking about. When they had told her that her boss and their boss had organized a sting designed to catch the serial killer, she'd felt like an even bigger fool when she needed them to explain what serial killer they were referring to. Liz was shocked when she learned that Abby was likely a captive of this killer, and that DiNozzo, the man Gibbs had her run background on, was a key player in the undercover mission. 'That would have been nice to know,' she steamed. He could have told her something more when he'd called her at two thirty in the morning, demanding she get herself to Baltimore, but instead, she'd been left in the dark.

She felt Gibbs acted as if she were a marionette puppet whose strings he could pull, amusing himself as she danced about, never feeling the need to share the plot outline with her. 'Do this Liz - Check out this Liz - Get me this Liz' - Never 'why' or 'because' or even 'thank you' when she cluelessly obeyed. The way he would look at her sometimes, disappointed, as if he had been expecting her to do something she hadn't, but never letting on what it was she had failed to do, infuriated her. She'd left the FBI because she hadn't felt like her contributions had been appreciated, and here she was, in an almost identical situation. The only difference was, Gibbs was now her boss – 'the most difficult, closed mouth bastard that every lived!' she thought.

Gibbs looked tenser than usual, when he finally returned, the Baltimore detectives trailing in his wake. He scanned the room upon entering, looking for Liz. When he saw her, sitting in a chair, her shoulders rigid, and her face frozen in that tight, half sneer she so often wore, he sighed. 'I don't have the energy to deal with Liz's attitude right now,' he thought, but knew he had no choice. He signaled to Dawson to join him, as he walked over to where she sat. "Liz, this is Lt. Dawson. Dawson, Agent Templeton," he introduced. Then, addressing Dawson, he said, "I want to send the evidence and camera back to D.C. with Agent Templeton for processing."

Dawson wasn't happy with that. "We have a perfectly good forensic lab here in Baltimore," he huffed.

"That wasn't a request," Gibbs snapped, too tired and worried to even attempt to be diplomatic. "You may have a good lab, but it services the entire department, and the evidence would have to wait its turn." He didn't wait for confirmation or denial. He'd worked with too many police forces not to know that was true. "If it goes back to NCIS, it'll get analyzed right away. Besides, you don't have facial recognition programs, do you?" he asked, again knowing what the answer would be.

Dawson stared at Gibbs, who matched his glare with one of his own. Finally, the Lieutenant was forced to look away. Dawson wanted to argue, but everything Gibbs had said was true. It bothered him to give up the evidence, though. It was just another way of losing face, and he'd done too much of that already. He had wanted to blame the failure of the mission on DiNozzo, but even though he'd thought about it all the time they'd followed the tracking device, he couldn't come up with a way to do it. No, he had been in charge of the detectives, and it had been them and himself who had missed the perp taking DiNozzo out of the club, and illogically, that truth just made him angrier.

"Go ahead, take it. But if you take the evidence, there isn't anything you can expect us to do," Dawson sneered. "I'm sending my men home for a few hours; it's been a long day." Then he called to Anderson, and told him to gather all the evidence and give it to Agent Templeton.

Gibbs was furious, but at that point, he just wanted the man to disappear. "Fine," he said, then he turned his back on Dawson and began to address Templeton. "Liz, we ran an undercover operation at a local nightclub that went bad. Abby's still missing, and now we've lost DiNozzo, the cop that was the bait." He then outlined for her everything that had happened that night, and when he thought she was up to speed, he told her what he needed. "There's a red leather collar in the evidence that has the tracking device still planted on it, and some clothes – all of which belonged to DiNozzo. See if there's evidence of anyone else on them – prints, fibers, anything. There's also a sample of fluids found at the dump site. I need to know what it is. Run anything you get through CODIS," he said, referring to the DNA database the FBI had recently developed. He paused, and pulled the fake cell phone out of his pocket. "Here's the camera. I took pictures at the club of anyone who seemed overly interested in DiNozzo. I need the film processed, and the images run through the facial recognition program. Start with all Maryland databases first. Once you get names, run them through AFIS; who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and get a hit. Who's covering for Abby?" he asked.

"David Brewer and Sandra Keating," Liz replied.

"See if you can get Sandra to do it," he ordered. "She's better than Brewer. And Liz, make sure she knows that speed counts."

"Can do," Liz said, seeing a detective approaching with the bags of evidence. "What are you going to do? Do you need me to do anything else to help?"

"I'm going to see if the club had security cameras. Hopefully they did, and I can get film from last night, and shots of the vehicles in the parking lot. There were tire tracks at the dump site, and someone is going to get them lifted. Who knows, they might point to a specific type of vehicle," he said, knowing he was clutching at straws, but not knowing what else to do.

"Are you driving back to D.C. today?" she asked him, since Baltimore was only about a half hour from the Naval Yard and a little under an hour from Gibbs' house.

"Nah," he said. "I took a hotel room when I got here. I know it's close, but I didn't want to lose a second if we got a lead on Abby's whereabouts. Besides, I thought I might need a space to work out of. I'm not the most popular person around here, in case you didn't notice," he said wryly. "Ducky's still here, and I'll use him to help out, unless Morrow needs him back. He's not an agent, but at least he's properly motivated," he said, thinking about to the lack of care and concern the Baltimore detectives had displayed. "You just stay at headquarters and push our stuff through the lab. Call me the minute you've got anything, or have any new ideas."

'So he's going to play cowboy,' Liz thought to herself. There was no way Ducky counted as backup. Gibbs was going to go it alone, leaving her to act like a gofer and operator for information – supplying names and numbers when requested.

Gibbs had been watching her as he talked. He was sure she'd totally missed his request to let him know if she had any new ideas. That was his problem with her, although she didn't know it. She could never get past the chip on her shoulder – she never seemed to have any new ideas; and that made him think about Tony for a minute. He'd been full of ideas. That was what Gibbs wanted in an agent. When he got Abby and Tony back, and he promised himself that he would, he was going to make sure that Tony came to work for him at NCIS. He was what the team was missing.

"Why are you still here?" he asked Liz, when he yanked his thoughts back to the present.

"Going now," she said stiffly, as she collected the evidence bags the detective had set on the chair next to her. "I'll call as soon as I have something."

"Do that," Gibbs said, effectively dismissing her. He watched her leave, and then rubbed his tired eyes. He'd take his car back to the hotel, and wake up Ducky. He could bring him up to speed as they drove over to the club to see about the security tapes, and one of them could drive Tony's car back. But first, he needed to find some coffee. As he went off in search of a full pot of coffee, his thoughts strayed back to Tony and Abby. What was going on with them? Were they okay?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby sat beside Tony, trying to be brave. It had been a few hours since their captor had stormed up the stairs, on his way to work. Tony had just lain there the whole time. At one point she had thought he was waking up, because he had moaned, but he had just drawn himself into a fetal position, the rope around his ankle forcing his body to curl down to meet his knees, his eyes never opening. She wondered if being unconscious was like sleeping – did you have vivid dreams? If so, she was sure he was having nightmares. She had given up humming, having long since run out of soothing songs to sing. Instead she was now just talking to him as she gently rubbed his back, intent on providing what comfort she could. She'd told him all about her work and Gibbs, and now she was talking about her hometown, New Orleans. She painted a picture of the Latin Quarter, where she'd grown up, telling him all about the mix of cultures and the music that poured through every door and window on hot summer nights. She had just launched into a discussion on the practice of Voodoo, when she heard, "We could probably use some of that magic about now."

"Tony, you're awake!" Abby exclaimed.

Actually, Tony had been awake for quite some time, but he'd been loath to acknowledge it, knowing that once he did, he'd have to deal with what had happened. Instead, he'd contented himself with lying still, letting Abby's words push away the foul things the killer had said to him, and allowing her gentle touch to erase the feel of the man's hands on his body. Part of him knew he should sit up, and try to figure out a plan, but the rest of his brain had refused to cooperate. The pain in his head and back was excruciating, making the idea of moving unappealing. The analytical part of his brain knew he had a concussion, and that his kidneys had been badly bruised. His years of playing football had taught him how to recognize the symptoms for both those conditions. But it was his emotions that had kept him frozen in place. He couldn't find a way to wash away the feelings of violation, and even though he knew the man was deranged, the things he had said to Tony had made him feel unclean. Then he had to deal with the humiliation. He'd gotten erect when the man had grabbed him; his body betraying him – wanting it's own release –leaving him feeling like he had somehow participated in his own molestation, and Abby had witnessed the whole thing.

He had realized the gag was gone not long after waking up. A quick inventory of the rest of his body had confirmed that he was still tied to the wall by his ankle, though, and that his hands were still cuffed. He was warmer than he had been, and when his fingers had brushed against something soft, he'd realized that Abby had covered him up with the blanket he'd seen earlier. Finally, knowing he couldn't put it off any longer since he had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, and not knowing how long the killer would be gone, he had spoken. He and Abby had things they needed to discuss before the man returned.

"Yeah," he'd said quietly in reply to her exclamation, and he'd rolled over onto his back so that he could see her better. The pain that caused made him immediately regret his decision, but he stayed still. "Thank you for taking the gag off," he said, knowing that the man would never have done him that kindness. Then, because humor was Tony's main coping mechanism, he said, "Tell me you didn't gnaw it off with your teeth."

Abby laughed softly, glad for the tension breaker, and said, "No, but I would have if I had needed to. I've got good teeth. He left my arms cuffed in front of me, so I was able to use my hands." She then fell silent.

Tony didn't know what to say then. What had happened hung in the air between them, rattling like the skeleton in the closet everyone knows is there, but tries to avoid anyway. Abby looked at him, and could see the struggle in his eyes. She knew they were going to have to talk about what had happened in order to move on, and it was becoming clear to her that Tony wasn't capable of starting that discussion.

"You don't have anything to be ashamed of," she risked saying softly.

That simple statement seemed to overwhelm Tony. When his eyes began to fill, he rolled his head away, not wanting her to see him.

"Hey," she said, reaching out with her hands to gently turn his head back towards her. "I mean it Tony. You didn't do anything wrong. There was no way you could have controlled what happened, and there is no reason to be embarrassed. Don't let him win. He was trying to humiliate you," she added fiercely. Then she threw herself on him, smothering him with an awkward hug.

Tony flinched involuntarily when she wrapped her handcuffed arms around him, both from the pain it caused, and because he wasn't sure how he felt about anyone holding him; and Abby must have sensed it. "You need a hug, even if you don't realize it. Hugs have special powers. They're better than Voodoo magic," she asserted.

They lay like that for a while, both drawing solace from the other. Finally Abby stirred. "Okay, that's better," she declared. "Let's try and get you sitting up, and then you can tell me about how you know the Bossman, and what's going on."

Oddly enough, Tony discovered that he did, indeed, feel better. He was momentarily confused by what she'd said, but then he remembered she had called Gibbs, Bossman, earlier. When she rolled off him, he tried to struggle into a sitting position. Abby helped, and soon he was sitting up. It hadn't been painless, but the new position actually helped him to feel more normal. After he got his breath back under control he started to talk. He told her about the four murders, thinking it was better for her to know the whole situation, even if it was scary. He felt she had a right to know, and that being aware of just how dangerous the man could be was important. He outlined how he had formed his theory on the motivations of the man who held them, and even though neither one of them mentioned how his earlier actions with Tony seemed to confirm that, they both thought it.

Then he told her about them finding her purse, and the call to NCIS that resulted in Gibbs' arrival. He had started to tell her about the plans for the undercover operation, but got waylaid when they both started laughing as he described getting Gibbs to agree to go into the club with him.

"I'd have loved to see him dressed like that," she gushed. "I'll bet he hated it."

"He looked pretty good," Tony said, and something about his voice made Abby look at him more closely.

"You've got the hots for him," she squealed.

"No I don't!" he denied.

The conversation devolved at the point, into a series of "yes you do's" and "do not's." Finally they were both laughing with abandon, and when Abby said, "Oh well, it doesn't matter. He's been married something like three times," Tony didn't think, he just replied, "I wouldn't be too sure about that, missy."

Abby's mouth flew open when he said that, and she fixed laser like eyes on him. "What did you mean just now? Explain."

Tony couldn't believe he'd said that. He was still off balance, and it had just felt so good to be laughing normally, that he had gotten carried away, and let his usual walls slip down. "I don't know what I meant, probably the head wound talking. Forget I said it," he pleaded, wanting to get her to move on.

But Abby had now had a glimpse behind his mask, and she immediately recognized it for what it was, when Tony slammed it back up. "Not a chance," she said. "You've got some reason to know that Gibbs is interested in you, and I want to know what it is. Not that I think it's a bad thing," she assured him, when he looked at her with panic in his eyes. "Gibbs needs someone, and you're funny and smart. You'd make him laugh, and God knows, you're pretty," she announced. "So cough it up, mister. I want details."

Tony hesitated. He couldn't believe he was considering saying anything about this, particularly to an almost complete stranger. But there was something about Abby; Gibbs had been right, she was special. He studied her for a moment, and then took a deep breath and said, "He might have said something at the club that let me know he was interested," he allowed.

"Aha" she crowed. "I knew it! What did he do - 'cause I know Gibbs, so I bet he did something, rather than said something."

Tony flashed back on the kiss briefly. He was not prepared to have this conversation. "I'm not talking," he said. "If you want to know, you can ask Gibbs when he gets here, which ought to be any minute," he said, and then he stopped. 'Why hadn't Gibbs gotten there already? How long had he been there? Had something gone wrong with the chip? Had it gotten knocked off?'

"Abby," he said, the sudden seriousness of his voice surprising her. "I need you to look at my collar. There should be a small piece of tape on one side of it. It's red, just like the collar and is hiding a tracking chip. See if…." He stopped, because Abby was looking at him in horror.

"What's the matter Abby?" he asked.

"Tony, your collar isn't red," she whispered. "It's black leather, and has a silver nametag on it that says 'whore'."

Tony knew then, that they were on their own.


	10. Chapter 10

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Ten**

Ducky sat bolt upright in the bed, experiencing that momentary disorientation one often has when waking up in unfamiliar surroundings. It took him a second to realize that it was the pounding on the hotel door that had awakened him. "I'm coming," he called out, directing his voice towards the door, as his hand groped around on the bedside table, searching for his glasses. Once located, he dragged them to his face, and settled them in place as he swung his legs off the bed and stood on legs still heavy with sleep. A quick glance at the bedside clock told him it was 6:30 in the morning, and he knew who must be at the door. He stumbled forward, his body still stiff and uncooperative, and unchained the safety lock. Turning the handle he stepped back, to allow his guest to enter. "How did it go?" he asked, as Gibbs strode into the room. Ducky noted Gibbs' unusual attire, but wisely chose not to comment on it.

Gibbs summarized the entire events of the night before in one sentence. "It was a total cluster fuck."

"Oh dear," Ducky sighed. "I assume the killer didn't take the bait?"

"Oh no, he took the bait," Gibbs growled, his face was hard and his body rigid. "He took it right out from under our noses. Now we've lost DiNozzo, as well as Abby."

"Whatever went wrong?" Ducky inquired, and Gibbs once again summarized last night's proceedings in great detail, this time allowing his anger and frustration with Dawson and his men to rise to the surface.

"Of all the incompetence!" Ducky exclaimed when Gibbs was done. "I trust that lieutenant is no longer in charge of the investigation?"

"He and his men have gone home to get some rest," Gibbs answered, his voice laced with the contempt he had masked from Templeton and the detectives; there was a faint underlay of panic to his voice that Ducky was also able to detect. Ducky was one of the few people Gibbs felt comfortable enough with to allow his emotions to show. Most of the time, with others, Gibbs strived for neutrality, although anger often had a way of slipping through.

"You will find them, Jethro. I have complete faith in your abilities," Ducky soothed. "So, what is your plan of action, and how may I be of assistance?" he then asked, knowing there was a reason Gibbs was there. Despite their friendship, Gibbs would not have come merely to vent his frustrations; if he was there, he needed Ducky for something.

"I want to go back to the club and see if they have security cameras. If they do, we might be able to spot the killer taking Tony if we can get shots of the back of the club, and its entrance. I don't trust Baltimore's finest anymore, so I'm going to do it myself," Gibbs said. "Tony's car is in the parking lot, and he left me the keys. If we both go over there, one of us can drive it back here," he added.

"If we're going to become the chief investigators, we're going to need some equipment. Why don't you call down to the front desk and see if they have a video tape player we can hook up to the television, whilst I get dressed," Ducky suggested, since he was attired only in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Picking up his suit pants and dress shirt from the desk chair, and grabbing a small overnight bag, he excused himself to the bathroom, while Gibbs called down to the front desk.

By the time Ducky had returned, Gibbs had made the necessary arrangements. "Success?" Ducky inquired, as he sat on the bed, preparing to put on his socks and shoes.

"Yes. They'll even hook it up for us. Their only concern seemed to be that I understood it would be an additional charge, since they reminded me of that several times during the conversation," Gibbs said sardonically, with a shake of his head.

"They must have met our accountants at some point," Ducky huffed, since the auditors at NCIS had an annoying habit of questioning any expense they deemed to be unnecessary. It was actually a touchy subject with Ducky, since recently an overzealous accountant had questioned why he was expensing gauze, bandages, and antiseptic ointment, since his patients were all dead. When informed that Ducky often tended to the minor cuts and bruises that agents sustained in the field, the accountant had snottily responded that was not in his job description. Morrow had to step in and okay the costs, when it looked like the accountant might otherwise become a guest on one of Ducky's tables down in Autopsy. Since then, the auditors had been instructed to bring all expense questions to the Director's office, but Ducky had not yet forgiven the accounting department.

Once Ducky was shod, they headed out to Gibbs' car. As Gibbs raced down the Baltimore streets, Ducky commented with a certain amount of glee, "It's been a long time since we worked on something like this together. It reminds me of the time you got us arrested by the French police."

"That was not my fault," Gibbs argued.

"Yes, the lovely Miss Shepard did rather leave us in the lurch," Ducky agreed, referring to Gibbs' pretty ex-partner. "You know Jethro, you might want to be more careful of redheads. They never seem to work out well for you."

"I've sworn off them, Duck. The last divorce did that for me. As a matter of fact, I'm thinking about taking up brunettes," Gibbs said.

"That would probably be for the best, my dear boy. Why I remember a lovely young brunette….." and Ducky was off and running. As he rambled through a lengthy story about some woman he had met at a forensics' conference several years ago, Gibbs allowed his thoughts to drift back to Tony. 'Is he with Abby?' he wondered. He hoped so, confident that the young detective and his forensic scientist would hit it off, and sure that they would draw comfort from the other's presence. Despite his reluctance to push his theories, there had been an irrepressible quality to Tony that had reminded Gibbs of Abby. It was a quality Gibbs found fascinating and endearing, since it was so different from his own personality. Truth be told, it was one of the main reasons he spoiled Abby. He couldn't seem to bring himself to do anything that would squelch her almost childlike love of life, and he suspected that if he were not careful, he'd have the same inclination with Tony, which would never do, if he were to work for him as an agent. That thought reminded him of another problem - rule number twelve – never date a co-worker. Gibbs' didn't really believe in self sacrifice, and the rule presented a true conundrum. Did he want Tony as an agent, or did he want him in his bed? The rule suggested that only one answer was possible. But then he had a more sobering thought; none of this would be a problem if he didn't succeed in getting Abby and Tony back, alive and healthy. On that note, he refocused on the problem at hand.

It was 7:30 in the morning by the time Gibbs and Ducky arrived at the club, only to find it locked up tighter than a drum. After pounding on the door unsuccessfully, Gibbs cursed. When he gave up on the door, he looked around at the front of the building. When he spotted a video camera mounted on the upper corner of the building, he pulled out his cell phone, and called Templeton.

"Liz. I need you to find out who runs The Devil's Den, and get them to come unlock the place. I don't care what you have to say. Just make sure they're here within the next hour. I'm there right now, and no one is in. I'm going to go get some coffee, and I want them here by the time I get back," he ordered. He didn't care what strings she had to pull, or the threats she might have to utilize. He needed answers, and security tapes might just provide him with them. Hanging up, he went back to the car.

"Club's locked, and the owner's on his way," he told Ducky. "Let's grab some coffee and food, and be back here in an hour."

Ducky had stood outside the car, watching Gibbs hammer on the door. Even now, despite the seemingly innocuous suggestion Gibbs had just made, Ducky could see a vein in his forehead throbbing, betraying the outward control he was trying to project. "You need to try and calm down Jethro," he said, worrying for his friend's health.

"I'm fine," Gibbs growled.

"No, you're not. Knowing you, I suspect you're blaming yourself in part for what happened to young Anthony last night, but you shouldn't," Ducky said.

"I lost him in the club," Gibbs finally admitted what had been eating at him.

"Following him wasn't your job, was it? You were there merely to take photos of the people he danced with," Ducky pressed, unwilling to let Gibbs drown in self-recrimination. "As you told me, it was part of the plan to have the killer nab him. It isn't your fault that the detectives were inattentive, or that the killer removed the collar containing the tracking device," he reminded Gibbs. "Let's go get that coffee; I think you need it. Although what would probably do you even more good, would be a few hours of sleep," he commented, as he opened the car door and sat back down.

Gibbs couldn't deny that Ducky was right, on all counts, but it was easier to tell someone to forgive themselves than it was to actually do it. As for sleep, he didn't think that was going to happen any time soon. For now, the coffee would have to do, he thought, as he, too, got back into the car, and headed for the coffee shop he had spotted on their way over.

An hour later, fed and caffeinated, Gibbs and Ducky pulled back up to the club. The building was still shut up tightly, but a silver Mercedes was now parked in the lot, not far from where Tony's black Corvette still sat. Once again Gibbs pounded on the door while Ducky waited by his side, and this time a smallish, thirty-something man, with blurry, red rimmed eyes, and a face full of stubble, wearing a crumpled ecru shirt and tan linen lounging pants, opened the door.

"Agent Jethro Gibbs, NCIS," Gibbs identified himself, as he held out his badge for inspection.

"Peter Yates." The man glanced briefly at the badge, and then held the door open for Gibbs and Ducky. "So, what's so important that I had to get out of bed and come down here?" he asked Gibbs.

"We had an undercover cop go missing from your club last night," Gibbs explained, "I saw the video cameras you had focused on the parking lot and I'm going to need all of your security tape for last night."

The man looked at Gibbs, his irritation still clearly showing, and in a petulant voice he asked, "Do you have a warrant for it, Agent Gibbs?"

"Not now I don't," Gibbs said, "But it wouldn't be a problem getting one. Of course, if I have to waste precious time doing that, I can't guarantee that I wouldn't also have time to talk to the press while I waited for the judge to sign off on it. I understand they've just heard there is a potential serial killer stalking the clubs in Baltimore. I'll bet they'd be very interested in finding out that so far, all of the victims have disappeared from only your club," he challenged.

"Okay, okay. Point taken," Yates said. "Hang on. It'll take me a few minutes to grab it."

"What about the inside of the club?" Gibbs asked.

"We don't bother. It's usually too crowded to really see anything clearly, and we have security people spread throughout the club all night," Yates answered.

"Do you have cameras on the back entrance?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah, but we don't let the general public using that door," was the answer.

"Is it locked from the inside?" Gibbs asked.

"No, but it's also not marked as an exit," Yates explained.

Gibbs knew that wouldn't matter. He and the detectives had no trouble locating the door, and it wouldn't be difficult for anyone else, either. Especially if one were to frequent the club. Gibbs was now sure that this was how the killer had gotten Tony out. There wouldn't have been that many people in the hallway outside the bathroom. The killer could have used drunkenness as an explanation for any questions about Tony's incapacity, and the people, who would have been more interested in getting back onto the dance floor or using the facilities, would never have questioned it.

"I'd still like to look at both of the tapes," Gibbs said.

The man sighed and said, "Pull up a chair," indicating the tables lining the walls, "and I'll be back in a few minutes. The recorders are in my office, so I'll go yank the tapes."

"My, it's been a long time since I have been in a dance club," Ducky commented, looking around at the industrial, warehouse look of the interior, as he sat down at a table. "The last one I was in had a lit floor, and a large mirrored ball hanging from the ceiling.

"Disco's dead, Ducky," Gibbs said, as he joined him at the table. "The music they played last night sounded like the stuff Abby listens to. Getting old," he added, with a small smile.

"Well, that would make me a dinosaur, then," Ducky said, referring to the difference in their age.

"You know what they say, Ducky. We're only as old as we feel. Unfortunately, today that probably makes me about one hundred," Gibbs commented wryly.

Before they had gotten much further, Yates returned, carrying two VCR tapes. "Here they are. There's one from the camera on the back of the club, and the one for the cameras aimed at the front of the club, and the parking lot. They aren't the highest quality, but they comply with what my insurance company demanded I get. The camera in the back is movable, and sweeps back and forth across the areas. The others are composite shots from several different cameras." As he handed them to Gibbs, he asked, "Does this mean you won't be talking to the press?"

"I don't think I'll be anywhere near them," Gibbs answered as he took the tapes. "Thank you for your cooperation," he added, pointedly ignoring the fact that he'd had to threaten the man to get what he wanted.

When they got back outside, Ducky insisted on being the one to drive Tony's car back to the hotel, thinking it was the least he could do for the missing detective. Gibbs' driving was erratic at best, and as a car aficionado himself, he recognized a classic when he saw it. He surrendered his room key to Gibbs, knowing the agent would beat him back to the hotel, and slid behind the wheel of the Corvette with relish.

When he got back to his room, Gibbs was indeed already there, sitting in front of the VCR player, impatiently trying to figure out how to work it. "Let me," Ducky said, as he watched Gibbs punching buttons at random.

Ducky wasn't the most tech savvy person, but he had purchased a VCR player when they came out, so that he could record his mother's favorite shows for her. She often fell asleep at night while watching them, and by having them recorded, she could watch them during the day, when she was more alert. Reaching over to turn on the television, which was still off, rendering any of Gibbs' attempts futile, and checking to make sure the tape had been inserted properly, Ducky took the controller from Gibbs, and pressed 'Play.' The screen lit up, to show the alleyway that the back entrance to the club abutted.

The quality of the tape was indeed poor, and it was hard to discern much detail. The camera didn't show the door; it merely picked up the alley itself. They spent well over two hours watching the tape, even with utilizing the fast forward feature. Finally, they got to a section where the camera revealed two men. One man seemed to be dragging the other, who appeared to be unresponsive.

"Stop it," Gibbs shouted excitedly, when they first saw it. Ducky pushed a button, and the two men froze in place. Their backs were to the cameras, so it was impossible to see their faces. The man doing the walking had wrapped one of the unconscious man's arms around his shoulder, and was holding on to it tightly. He'd wrapped his other arm around the incapacitated man's waist, and the combination of grips was holding the other man up. It was clear that the one man was not moving his legs, as his feet remained together, and slightly behind the other man.

"That's got to be them," Gibbs asserted. "I wish we had a better view. I know exactly what Tony had on, and it's hard to be sure that's what that guy is wearing Let's let it go forward again, and see if we get a look at their faces."

Ducky pressed the button and the camera immediately swept away from them to point at the other end of the alley. By the time it was pointed in their direction again, they were almost to the end of the alley. It didn't look like the man doing the dragging ever turned his head, and before they knew it, the men had passed out of the camera's range.

"Damn it!" Gibbs cursed. "That just confirmed what we already knew, but didn't tell us anything more."

"Let's look at the other tape," Ducky suggested. "He had to go somewhere with Tony. Maybe he went around to the parking lot." He ejected the tape they had been watching, and placed the other tape in the VCR. Having watched the first tape closely, Ducky had a sense of how far he dared fast forward the tape. This tape was different than the other. It used several cameras, and consisted of ever changing images of the lot, montaged together from the various cameras. Although the coverage was better, the scale of the pictures had been reduced, and it was even harder to pick up any details. Finally, they were able to see the two men approaching a dark vehicle parked in the back of the lot. Gibbs could tell it was them because of the distinct way the one man's toes seemed to be dragging on the ground. The man doing the carrying dropped the other to the ground as he unlocked the vehicle, then he picked him back up and shoved him into the back seat. He then leaned in and did some things they couldn't see, and when he emerged, he got into the driver's seat and closed the door. They watched him pull out of the parking lot, and pass from the camera's view. Unfortunately, the camera image was so small, they couldn't pick out a lot of information.

"It looks like a Jeep Cherokee," Ducky offered, as they watched the tape for a second time, "but that's all I can really tell. I can't even see the license plate, let alone get a number."

"How could this possibly satisfy an insurance company?" Gibbs fumed. "It's impossible to see anything clearly. Our lab may be able to enhance the images, but it'll take time. Time we don't have."

"Would you like me to drive them back to D.C.?" Ducky offered.

Gibbs thought about it for a minute. He didn't really need Ducky there, but it was nice to have someone there to bounce ideas off of, and Ducky was a calming presence when Gibbs' temper threatened to explode. He wasn't worried about keeping the M.E. from important work. If Morrow needed him, he wouldn't hesitate to call him back. Shaking his head, he answered, "No. We can send them to Liz via courier. If we call now, we can probably have them at the Yard within an hour and a half. I doubt if anyone could get to them much before that anyway, since they have all of the other evidence to process. Liz will be busy for some time scanning the photos I took, and running them through the recognition program. You cue the tapes back up to the places they need to work on, while I call for a pick up," he told Ducky, as he pulled out his phone.

Liz picked up on the second ring. "I don't have anything for you yet, Gibbs," she said, without waiting for him to ask. "The pictures are still being scanned into the computer, although that's almost done, so I'll be able to start running them through the recognition programs soon. The lab is busily engaged in running the evidence, and I was just getting ready to go down and check in with Sandy to see how she was doing."

"You can eliminate the photos of women," Gibbs told her. "We've got security footage of the killer taking DiNozzo out of the club, and it's definitely a man. That's why I'm calling. I need someone to pick up the videotapes, and bring them back to you. The images aren't very good, and I want you to see what can be done to make them clearer. We even have a shot of the killer's vehicle, and it looks like a Cherokee, but I can't get any real information on it from the way the picture is now. Maybe something can be done so we can see the license number."

"I can probably have someone to you within 45 minutes," Liz offered. "Where do you want me to send them?"

Gibbs looked at the stationery sitting next to the phone, and rattled the address of the Best Western off to her. Then he gave her Ducky's room number, and reminded her to call him the instant she had anything. Just before he hung up he thought of something. "Liz, can you send me the pictures of all the men at the club to me via email when you have them?"

"Sure, but are you going to be able to access them?" she asked him in return, thinking privately to herself that this was one reason he should have come back to D.C with her. "If I held off on the courier for about a half hour, I could send you hard copies of the photos with him," she offered.

Gibbs thought about her offer. He'd have to go back to the precinct to access his email, and then hope they had a printer that could reproduce the pictures clearly enough to be useful. The copies Liz sent to him would be high quality, far better than anything he could hope to get here. "Go ahead and do that," he said. He wanted another look at the men who'd been interested in Tony, now that he'd seen the security tapes. Maybe it would spark something for him. Right now, he didn't have any better options, and everything from Liz's end was going to take time. Liz promised to move as swiftly as possible, and then hung up.

Gibbs told Ducky what was going on, and then said, "I'm going back to my room to take a shower and get into some different clothes. Can I have the keys to DiNozzo's car? He's got some of my clothes in the duffle bag in the trunk that I want to get out," he explained as Ducky handed him the key ring. "I'll be back in about a half an hour."

Gibbs went out to the car and retrieved the bag. After he'd gone back to his room, he sat down on the bed and opened it up, pulling out his polo and khaki slacks. He slid Tony's leather jacket off and placed it on the bed. Looking at it, he smiled, thinking about how amused Abby would have been, to see him dressed up in tight jeans and black leather. He wondered if Tony had told her about it. If so, he knew she would pester him for a repeat showing.

Unfortunately, thinking about clothing reminded him of what they'd found at the 4-H grounds. He'd been disturbed that the killer had stopped to partially undress Tony. Tony had hypothesized that the killer operated from some weird sense of denial versus attraction. If that was the case, why had he done that? Was the attraction beginning to win out over the denial? He'd waited a week and a half to grab a man the first time, and five days the second. This time it had only taken him one day. He was definitely escalating. The only thing that might work in their favor was that it had also taken him longer to kill his captives the second time. He'd jumped from one day the first time, to three days the second. Did that mean he would wait even longer this time? Gibbs didn't want to have to find out, because he'd remembered something else that had changed between the first set of killings and the second. With the first man and woman, there had been no signs of overt violence, but that had changed. The second man had been beaten. Now, with Tony as the third man, the killer was showing signs of changing his pattern yet again. What did that imply about Tony's physical wellbeing? He needed answers, and he needed them fast. As he began to undress for a shower, he mentally catalogued the evidence they now had – the clothes, the fluids, the pictures, and the security tapes. Surely something would provide them with the clue they needed.


	11. Chapter 11

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Eleven**

Tony's cuffed hands involuntarily flew up to touch the collar encircling his neck. It wasn't that he doubted Abby; it was merely an instinctual reaction to the very bad news. As he ran his fingers around the leather, he could feel hobnailed studs that had been embedded in a double row, marking it as different from the one he'd originally worn. His fingers traced the smooth cold metal plate that must be the nametag Abby had mentioned. 'Well, no red collar, no tracking device, no fast rescue,' he thought – they were on their own.

"It won't matter," Abby said, her head nodding up and down repeatedly, and he wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. "Gibbs doesn't need a tracking device. He's like some kind of crime solving superhero. He just knows things, for no apparent reason. It's spooky. Lots of times, when I'm running evidence for him, he shows up right before my computers spit out the answer he's been waiting for. He always asks suspects just the right question to make them give themselves up. I can't even remember the last time he couldn't solve something he was working on, and everyone else comes to him for help when they're stuck on a case. So, there is no way he isn't going to find us."

Tony sat and listened to her ramble on, and found himself thinking about how nice it must be to have that much faith in your boss. He not only didn't think Dawson would exert too much effort in trying to find him; he didn't think Dawson had the skills to succeed, even if he did. He had yet to see the man exhibit any creativity in his thinking - as a matter of fact, he seemed to actively work to avoid it. Dawson liked to do everything by the book, and if the book didn't cover it, then that meant you shouldn't do it. When Tony had first joined the Homicide team, he'd tried to push Dawson, urged him to take risks. That had resulted in three write-ups for insubordination. After that, Tony had become less vocal, knowing he couldn't afford to keep accumulating black marks on his record – not if he was going to need to get a different job. Instead, he'd settled for pursuing his ideas on his own, apologizing for not keeping Dawson in the loop after the fact, when the murder had been solved, and Dawson couldn't risk officially writing him up. It hadn't improved their relationship, but it had taught Tony how to work on his own – a skill that was apparently going to be necessary now.

"We should probably come up with a plan of our own, while we wait," he said to Abby, not wanting to say anything that would shake her confidence in Gibbs, since it was clear that was one of the things keeping her from falling apart. But he was also not willing to sit back, and just hope and wait for rescue. What had happened earlier had been traumatic – he was still shaky, his head hurt and he was slightly nauseated, and he had no desire to go through something like that again. And he definitely didn't want Abby to have to experience something similar, since there was no guarantee that the killer wouldn't turn on her, also, so he needed to come up with some kind of strategy.

"Like what?" she asked, when his statement effectively stopping her recitation of Gibbs' strengths as a crime fighting superman.

"I'm not sure yet. Let's start by going back over what we're sure of," Tony suggested. "We know he always takes a woman first and then a man," he said. "And the time in between is getting shorter and shorter, so we need to come with a theory for why this is happening."

"Alright, give me the details," Abby instructed, since Tony hadn't been specific earlier, when he'd told her about why they'd decided to run an undercover mission. She was leaning forward, ready to absorb everything he had to say, and he bet she'd be taking notes if she could. He had a quick image of her as a student. 'Bet she always sat in the front of the room,' he thought to himself.

Tony told her about the other four people, giving her both the facts and the information he'd learned from their family and friends. She asked about the evidence and the results of the autopsies, and was clearly unhappy that so little had been found. He then outlined the previous timelines of both the abductions and the murders. When he was done, Abby looked thoughtful.

"So physically, we fit the pattern," she mused, when he was silent. "But really, we're a lot different."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked, wanting her to clarify her statement.

"It sounds like the others were all kind of weak, needy, out to find someone else to make them feel special," she continued. "I'll bet they were easy for him to get to and even easier to terrify once he had them."

"Hang on a sec," Tony said, as he thought about what she'd just said. There might be something to that. "Let me think about that for a minute," and his heart started racing. Maybe he'd been wrong in his first analysis. He'd assumed that the last victim, Willis, the model and actor, had been kept alive longer because he'd played along with the killer, come on to him, promised the killer things. Could he have been wrong? What if it was just the opposite; what if Willis had been the only one who stood up to the killer? He forced himself to go back over what had happened earlier. He'd pushed it away before, not ready to analyze it. The killer had first struck him when he'd promised to be good – when he'd submitted, thinking that was what the man had wanted. And later, he didn't try to fight, instead trying to doing what he'd always been taught you should do during a rape to avoid being seriously injured. What if that was exactly what the killer didn't want? Maybe for him, it was all about the struggle.

"Abby," he said softly, as his eyes lost focus. "Originally I thought he killed them when they refused to give into him. What if it's the other way around? What if the thrill for him is the fight – the way his victims – at least the men - try to resist him? I think he uses the women as an audience – as someone to watch him do battle in an attempt to conquer over the evil that he thinks the men represent. That might explain why he paints them as whores, as someone who has it coming to them. He may need the women to approve of what he's doing. What if he doesn't kill them until after he's broken the men and they just agree to whatever he says – when they don't have any fight left and there's no reason for him to continue. Once that happens, he'd have no excuse not to do what I think he really wants to do with them, but can't. He'd only have two choices then – fuck them or kill them, and he won't allow himself to do the first, because then he'd have to admit he was gay," Tony said, and looked at Abby to see what she thought.

"Maybe," she allowed, "Um, but earlier, he, ah, you know," and she made some kind of noise meant to suggest an orgasm, not sure how ready Tony was to discuss the details of his attack and afraid to be too graphic.

Tony knew what she was referring to. "Yeah, he came," he said, not willing to white wash it, because that would be giving the killer too much power over him. He didn't remember everything clearly, he'd still been stunned from the earlier slap and his brain had disassociated some during the actual attack, but he was sure of that because it had signaled the end of the torture. "But not in me. He didn't even try," he added, remembering how surprised he had been, because he had expected to be raped.

"You know, that's true," Abby said, as she recalled more details about the attack. "When I think back, it was almost as if he didn't realize what his own body was doing – like he was in some weird kind of trance. His voice even seemed to change. After a while, it seemed like he was talking more to himself, than to me. Like he had to convince himself that you were dirty."

"That may have been one of the reasons he got so mad at the end," Tony said, thinking out loud. "He lost control, and if this is all about asserting power and control, then that would have pissed him off. If I'm right, the fact I didn't put up more of a fight probably angered him, too."

"But you did struggle," Abby objected, remembering how the man had fought to hold Tony still as he tried to pull away. She hadn't watched the whole thing, but she had seen parts of it; it had been impossible not to, since it was happening right in front of her. "No, if you're right, the fact you did try to resist may be the only reason we're both still alive," she shuddered, thinking about how their lives may have been hanging in the balance and they hadn't even realized it. "What do you think is going to happen if he comes back before Gibbs gets here?" she asked, then.

"I don't know," Tony said. "But I'm pretty sure he isn't finished. He didn't get the clean win I think he needs."

Unlike Abby, Tony was not at all confident that Gibbs was going to come rushing in at any minute to save the day. He didn't know when the killer had taken the tracking device off him, so there was no way of knowing whether Gibbs and his fellow detectives had any idea of where they were. He needed to weigh out the risks of his various options. Should he provoke the killer, throw down a challenge? If this new theory was right, that was what the man wanted. That could buy them more time. Was that the best way to keep Abby safe? What if he was wrong, though? What would happen then? What if by goading the man, he made him snap? Would he kill them just to be rid of the aggravation?

"Hey, penny for your thoughts," Abby poked at him.

Tony looked up, and realized he'd gotten lost in his strategizing. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking," he explained.

"I guessed that," she smiled. "What were you thinking about? Were you trying to come up with a plan?"

"I was wondering about what to do when he comes back," Tony told her. "If we're right, I think I need to bait him. Challenge him; give him something to focus on other than his own sexual urges and hang-ups. I'm pretty sure that's what he's after. It must be why when he attacked me he chose to do it sexually. I think it's all confused in his head and he can't get it straight. But I can't guarantee it," he said, wanting her to understand that it was risky. "It's a real risk Abby. I need you to understand that if I'm wrong, we could both end up dead, faster than he may have originally intended."

Abby looked up, the runny eyeliner making her eyes look even bigger than they already were. She caught and held his eyes with her own, as she studied his face, saying nothing. Tony didn't speak either, giving her the time to find whatever she was looking for as she processed what he'd said.

"My parents were deaf," she said, when she finally started to speak, surprising Tony with the seemingly unrelated statement. "Our house was always quiet, and when I was really young, and we would go somewhere, loud noises scared me, which was a problem, since I grew up in New Orleans, and it's not a quiet city. My own voice even sounded funny to me, and since I didn't have a lot to compare it to, I just got in the habit of not talking. I don't know, maybe a part of me felt guilty about being able to hear and talk, when neither my mother nor father could. But I loved music, and I'd hear it everywhere we went, in the stores and cafes, drifting out of the neighbors' houses as we took walks in the evenings…" she paused, lost in the memory.

Pulling herself back, she continued. "Anyway, I wanted so badly to sing with the music, but I was afraid. My mother must have sensed what was going on. Maybe I got a certain look when I was listening to it, or maybe my feet tapped to the beat, I don't know. Finally, one day, when I was about five, she loaded me up and we went to visit this woman I'd never met before. She was pretty, with long golden hair, and she had on this gauzy, lavender flowered skirt that seemed to float when she moved, and her apartment was crammed full of interesting things to see. They left me to wander around the living room, looking at all the knick knacks, while they had a long conversation using ALS. Suddenly, I heard the most beautiful sound. The woman had pulled out a guitar and was singing as she strummed it. I was like a moth to a flame; I couldn't resist going over by her, to hear the music better. She smiled at me as she finished the song, and then she asked me if I wanted to try playing it. I looked over at my mother, who was smiling, and when she nodded, I told the woman yes. She pulled me up on the couch next to her, and placed the guitar on my lap. Then she showed me how to strum, and while she formed the chords on the neck of the guitar, I strummed the strings. We sat like that for a long time, and eventually she began to sing along with the music we were making. It was a simple song, with a recurring chorus, and the second time she sang it, she asked me to sing along with her. I was scared. I'd never sung out loud before. I'd done it lots of times in my head, but that didn't count. When I shook my head, my mother reached over to get my attention. 'Try it,' she signed. 'Don't be afraid.' When I shook my head again, she signed, 'Abby, you have to be brave. The things most worth doing in life are often scary when you first try. But you can't be afraid to take a risk, or there's no point in being alive.' Anyway," Abby said, looking at Tony and laughing softly, "To make this very long story a little shorter, the upshot was that I did try to sing. For five years Susan, that was the woman's name, gave me guitar, piano and singing lessons, and I learned to make music. But more importantly, I learned to take a risk. So, if you think there's a chance this is the right thing to do, then I say we go for it. Aside from ending up dead, of course, how much worse could it possibly get? We're already handcuffed and locked in some basement, being held captive by some crazy psycho killer. If we don't do anything, and Gibbs doesn't get here soon, we're going to end up dead anyway, aren't we? Maybe if this works, he'll make a mistake and we can get away."

Tony wasn't sure how to respond. The story had touched him, and he was honored that she'd shared it with him. He was even more humbled that she'd obviously decided to put her life in his hands, trust in his conclusions. "It could get ugly," he warned, "Even uglier than before, and you might have to be braver than you've ever been. And I can't promise he won't hurt you too, although I'll do everything I can to prevent it," he promised.

"But you think it's the right thing to do, right?" Abby asked.

"Yeah, I do," he said.

"Then it's settled," she said. "We're in this together, now. We're a team, and we can be brave for each other. But you have to promise me something."

"What?" Tony asked.

"Promise me that you'll let me know exactly what you're planning, and that you'll let me do my part," she said with conviction.

"I promise," Tony pledged.

"Pinky swear," Abby demanded, holding out her cuffed hands to him.

"Pinky swear," Tony agreed, as he reached out with his own hands, and hooked his left pinky with her right one.

"To teams," Abby said, as their fingers locked.


	12. Chapter 12

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Twelve**

Being someone's hero is never easy. It might feel nice - stroke the ego, make you feel needed – but it came at a price. Gibbs was paying that price right now, as he dressed, having showered, shaved and generally cleaned himself up. He knew that Abby idolized him; it would be impossible to miss, and he was sure she was expecting him to come barreling through the door to save her at any minute. But that wasn't going to happen any time soon, and the guilt was tearing up his insides.

Never in all the times he'd worked on his boat down in his basement, trying to stop his mind from running down a host of worst case scenarios, had he ever imagined needing to rescue Abby. Abby belonged in the lab, where it was safe, and the most dangerous thing she could encounter would be contaminants from the evidence she processed, not in the clutches of some killer. The fact that they had no solid clues yet to help identify the man was making it even worse. It wasn't that he thought that she was weak or fragile, like some hothouse flower. If anything, he thought Abby was one of the bravest people he'd ever known; she dared to dress as she liked, never hesitated to voice her opinion about a case they were working on, was willing to go toe to toe with any one of his agents, and - most importantly to him - refused to let him cow her. It was just that he couldn't bear the thought of her being hurt or frightened needlessly; he cared too much for her. When he was having a really bad day, a visit to Abby was often like a reaffirmation of life, and someone that special didn't deserve to suffer. All he could do was hope that her unrelenting optimism hadn't deserted her, even if it was that very thing that had him feeling so guilty.

Once he'd tied his shoes, he rose from the bed, ignoring the siren call of the pillows and soft mattress. He switched on the bedside light, not knowing what time he'd return to the room, and grabbed his sports jacket and keys, preparing to head back to Ducky's room. He was almost to the door, when his cell phone rang.

"Gibbs?" Liz's voice rang out. She sounded excited, and that made his heart pump a little faster. Maybe she had good news.

"Yeah," he answered. "Do you have something for me?"

"I just got the pictures of the men from last night printed out and have already given them to the courier. She should be there in about a half hour. But that wasn't why I was calling. Sandra just called from the lab. She's finished running most of the tests on the physical evidence. She picked up two sets of prints on the clothes and shoes, one of which belonged to DiNozzo. We tried matching that right away for the process of elimination. She's running the other through AFIS now, so maybe we'll get lucky. She also had the results from the fluids you found on the scene. It was semen," she paused there, waiting to see if he'd comment on that piece of information. When he didn't say anything, Liz continued. "I don't know if that will help right now, but if it doesn't, it'll at least give us a DNA profile we might be able to match later. Doesn't look like your guy is too careful. He's leaving a lot of trace behind.  
I don't know if that means he feels safe because he doesn't have a record, or that he's just careless. She also found a few stray fibers on the boots and vest that she's still trying to match, but her best guess is that they'll end up being carpet fibers. So unless we get a vehicle, I don't know if they'll be much help."

"Does she have a DNA profile yet?" Gibbs asked, knowing that often took some time.

"She said it would be a while. She'll start running it through the system as soon as she has it, but you know as well as I do, how limited the search database is for DNA. In a few years, though, I'll bet it starts to replace print matches. Anyway, I'm starting the facial recognition searches, so I'll let you know the minute I have anything. Just wanted to bring you up to speed."

Gibbs had listened to her, pleased that they had found something, and felt justified in having taken the evidence away from Dawson. If it had stayed in Baltimore, they would not have even started processing it yet. He knew there was no guarantee the results would lead to an identity, but it was certainly better than the nothing they'd had before. "Good work Liz," he said, offering up a rare statement of approval, which caused Liz to preen, unseen on the other end of the phone. She couldn't remember the last time he'd verbally congratulated her. "See if they can start on trying to clean up the security tapes the minute they get to you, and keep me in the loop," he ordered, just before he ended the call, and he could hear her, "Sure thing," as he pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed the button to disconnect.

When he got to Ducky's room, the first thing he noticed was the scent of coffee that permeated the air.

"Jethro," Ducky said as he let him in. "I had hoped you would take a short nap, but since I didn't really expect you to, I've made coffee. Help yourself," and he waved his hand towards the bathroom.

The air in the bathroom was heavy with steam, as Ducky had obviously used the time Gibbs had been gone to see to his own daily ministrations. Gibbs looked at himself in the partially fogged vanity mirror as he poured himself a cup of his favorite vice. He looked tired, and the bags under his eyes, a testament to too little sleep, were like dark bruises. His hair was now more silver than brunette, and he thought he looked every one of his forty-something years. Most days he didn't feel middle aged, but today was an exception. He didn't do well with down time to begin with, and inactivity forced by a lack of pursuable clues was the worst kind. With nothing better to do, he continued his self examination, grabbing a tissue from the vanity to wipe away the last of the fog, so that he could see himself more clearly. He was in good shape, his waist still trim, and his shoulders and arms solidly muscled and toned, not in the bulky and bunched manner that had become popular in the past few years, but rather in an understated way that suggested competence, power and speed. He worked hard to maintain that shape, running and working out regularly in the gym, not out of a sense of vanity, but because his body was a tool, used to help him do his job. He'd been raised to believe that you should always take care of your tools.

He wasn't oblivious to the fact that he looked good, and wasn't above using it when it would help him on a case, but he didn't typically think about it. Sometimes he even forgot about it, and was surprised when someone showed overt attraction to him, as Tony had done last night. It had been a long time since he'd been as attracted to someone as he was to Tony. Usually he just went through the motions, and said the things that were expected of him when it became necessary. Of course, that had led to three marriages, and three very messy divorces. It had been years since he'd allowed himself to become involved with a man. He found them harder to predict, which added to the more obvious complications of that type of relationship. There had been few who seemed worth the bother, but he had a feeling that Tony might be different. He just hoped he'd get the opportunity to find out if he was right. Sighing, he picked up his cup of coffee, and walked back into the main room to rejoin Ducky.

They sat, idly chatting about the case and cases past, as they waited for the courier to arrive. Gibbs knew the pictures weren't going to provide him with any answers; he'd seen all the people before, after all. But they could speed things up later, if Liz and the lab succeeded in getting a more useable image from the security tapes, and when the facial recognition program began to cough up names, as he was sure it would. At the very least, it should match faces to driver's license images. Not all states had yet to enter the photos from licenses into a facial recognition database, but Maryland, due to its proximity to the nation's capital, had been a leader in the new technology. So he knew, if all else failed, they could begin to investigate each person identified; it would just be a slow process, at a time when speed counted.

Finally, when they had just started on a second pot of coffee, the courier arrived. Gibbs took the photos from her, and handed off the security tapes, with an order for her to get them back to headquarters as fast as possible. By the time Ducky had shown her out, and had closed the door once again, Gibbs was already looking through them. Liz had taken him at his word, and had sent him only the men's pictures, but even so, there were over twenty photos. 'Christ,' he thought as he thumbed through them, 'had Tony really danced with that many people?' Some he remembered, and others he could have sworn he'd never seen before. There was a sameness to the men photographed. They were consistently good looking, and all seemed to be in their late twenties or early thirties; apparently like attracted like. Tony was by far the edgiest and most overtly sexual of them, and that was probably one of the things that had attracted the men to him – that thrill of walking on the wild side, the opportunity to fraternize with the unknown. That might be why the killer had gravitated towards Goths and Punks. 'Maybe it was easier for him to justify taking them, if they didn't look like your average man. Who knows?' he thought, his only interest in understanding the workings of the man's mind stemming from how it might aide him in discovering the killer's identity .

Liz had numbered each picture, probably so they could easily refer to them later, confident that they were talking about the same image. He was able to rule out four men right away. They were far too short. The man on the security tape had been close to Tony's height, although it had been difficult to tell exactly how similar, since Tony's head had been lolling to the side and down. He called Liz to share that information with her, and to let her know that the courier was on her way back, then, with no other options, he settled back down to wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby and Tony began to plan for the return of Mr. Psycho Killer, as Abby had begun to refer to him. Tony wasn't really comfortable with that name for him, but if it made Abby feel better to marginalize him with a derogatory name, then he was all for it. As they talked, Tony stressed that it was important for Abby to appear to be compliant and friendly. "If I'm right, and he uses the women to help justify his actions, you're going to have to take his side. No matter what he does," Tony told her. "No matter what," he stressed.

"I don't know if I can just sit still and watch him, if he hurts you again," she answered. "Maybe I could plead with him to leave you alone."

Tony had been afraid of that. "It wouldn't work Abby, and you might make him mad. Remember how he kept trying to get you to see that I was worthless? If you seem to agree with him, it might just make it better for me. Maybe he won't feel the need to keep proving to you that I'm bad," he said, although he secretly doubted that was the case. He was sure the man would keep right on trying to dehumanize him, since that was the only way he could resist his more primal urges, but he was looking for a way to keep Abby safe, and he knew that her disagreeing with the killer would be dangerous. Besides, if he was right, the man wasn't ready for it to end yet, so although it might not be pretty, he didn't think he'd wind up dead tonight, not if the killer got to keep playing at being the judge, meting out punishment, to Abby's jury. If his theory was correct, the only thing that would get him killed tonight would be submitting, giving the man no choice but murder as a means for escaping his own sexual desires.

"Do you really think so?" Abby asked.

"Yeah, I do," he expertly lied.

"So, what are you going to do?" she asked.

"I'm going to look for his triggers. See what sets him off. You said he seemed to space out some when he was attacking me. If that's true, and he gets worked up enough, maybe he'll make a mistake. Do something that gives me an opportunity to overpower him or something. We'll have to see. No one's perfect. Sooner or later, he's going to make a serious mistake. We just need to make sure we're still alive when he does it," Tony told her.

"How will I know when you've found something?" she asked.

"You probably won't, until I've already acted on it. The best thing you can do is to stay out of the way, so I don't have to worry about you getting hurt, too. I don't even know if it'll happen tonight; we'll have to see. Just play along with him – give him what he needs. Tell him he's right. We've agreed to take this risk, so you need to do the other part of that, you need to be brave. It'll help me be brave, too," he added, and he was telling the truth then. If he knew he didn't need to worry about Abby, he'd be able to push himself into taking chances.

"I'm going to start by demanding to know why he's taken me, and I think I'm going to ignore the fact that you're a prisoner, too. Make it about me and him," Tony said, working out a plan aloud.

"Then what?" Abby asked.

"I'm not really sure. A lot will have to do with what he says. I'd like to get him talking to me. Maybe I can get him to settle for just ripping me apart verbally – calling me names and stuff – rather than resorting to physical contact. The more he talks, the more I know what's going on in his brain. You need to watch him closely; look for the little signs that I might miss. We can compare notes later." Tony knew it wasn't going to be easy, and if things didn't go as he was hoping, if the man physically assaulted or molested him again, he couldn't count on his ability to remain analytical and detached, no matter how hard he tried. He would need Abby's observations. "So, do you think you can do it?" he asked.

"Uh huh," she nodded her head. "I'm not the one doing the hard stuff."

"Yeah you are," he said. "It's usually worse to watch someone being hurt in any way, than it is to be hurt. At least, that's true if you've got half a heart. Doing nothing is sometimes the hardest thing we can ever do."

Abby sighed, and then scootched over closer to Tony. "Can I snuggle against you for a while?" she asked.

"Sure," he smiled, actually glad for the human contact.

She leaned into him then, letting her head rest on his shoulder, and he could feel her body heat start to warm him. "Hey Abby?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, her voice slightly tight, and he wondered if she was hiding tears.

"Do you still know that song the lady taught you when you went to visit her the first time?" he asked.

"Yes, I could never forget it. It was the first song I learned to play on the guitar. It's called 'Remember Me This Way'," she answered.

"Would you sing it for me?" he asked, hesitantly.

She didn't answer him. Instead, she merely began to sing.

Every now and then  
We find a special friend  
Who never lets us down  
Who understands it all  
Reaches out each time you fall  
You're the best friend that I've found  
I know you can't stay  
But part of you will never ever go away  
Your heart will stay

I'll make a wish for you  
And hope it will come true  
That life will just be kind  
To such a gentle mind  
If you lose your way  
Think back on yesterday  
Remember me this way  
Remember me this way

I don't need eyes to see  
The love you bring to me  
No matter where I go  
And I know that you'll be there  
Forever more a part of me  
You're everywhere  
I'll always care

I'll make a wish for you  
And hope it will come true  
That life will just be kind  
To such a gentle mind  
If you lose your way  
Think back on yesterday  
Remember me this way  
Remember me this way

And I'll be right behind your shoulder watching you  
I'll be standing by your side in all you do  
And I won't ever leave  
As long as you believe  
You just believe

I'll make a wish for you  
And hope it will come true  
That life will just be kind  
To such a gentle mind  
If you lose your way  
Think back on yesterday  
Remember me this way  
Remember me this way  
This way

When she was done, they didn't speak. They just stayed nestled together, waiting for the man's return, taking the time to build their own private defenses and battle their own unspoken fears.


	13. Chapter 13

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Thirteen**

The call came in at around three; it was Liz. "Good news, Gibbs," she began. "The facial recognition program spit out sixteen names. It wasn't all the men, but at least we've got something to start with. Tech's having some problems with the enhancement, so I thought we could get going with this."

"Start running them down," Gibbs instructed. "I'll call Morrow and get him to give you another agent or two to help. Look for everything you can on these guys – jobs, addresses, phone numbers, past records – I even want to know if they've got a parking ticket. Try calling them and see if any of them have alibis for Sunday night, since we know the killer was at the club then, too. Then try confirming what they tell you. If you get anything at all promising, you call me. Understand?"

"Not a problem," Liz said, glad to have something new to do, and a little excited about having some agents assigned to her. 'Maybe having Gibbs gone isn't such a bad thing,' she told herself.

"What's the lab's ETA on the security tapes?" Gibbs then asked.

"They don't know," she said. "They aren't even sure if they're going to be able to get a better picture yet. They were grumbling about poor resolution last time I checked in with them."

"Make sure they know that Abby's safety depends on this," Gibbs told her, knowing that Abby was universally loved by all of the forensic specialists at NCIS, and that helping her would give them extra incentive.

"Can do," Liz told him, and waited for the expected click that indicated that Gibbs had hung up.

"Well?" Ducky asked when Gibbs was off the phone. "What's going on?"

Gibbs relayed what Liz had told him, his face reanimating for the first time in over an hour. "I'm going to call Tom now," he said, referring to Director Morrow.

Gibbs punched in the Director's number, and paced while he waited impatiently for him to answer.

"Jethro, what's happening with the investigation?" Director Morrow asked, upon answering. He was using his private cell phone, a number very few people had.

For the second time, in as many minutes, Gibbs related what was happening on the case. Then he asked, "Tom, I really need some other people working on this with Templeton. It's going to take a while to check out those sixteen names, and then she's going to have to start running down alibis. It would go a lot faster if there were a few phones being used."

"I can spare one, maybe two more people, provided nothing else comes in. I'll get them over to her as soon as possible. Is Dr. Mallard still with you?" Morrow asked.

"Yeah, do you need him back?" Gibbs asked.

"No, it's fine. Keep him there with you. We don't have anything urgent right now, and he'd be unbearable if he came back and didn't have anything to do. Use him wisely, Jethro. He's got more experience in this sort of thing than most people suspect," Morrow reminded him.

"I never forget that," Gibbs assured him. It was funny, for all of Ducky's talking he was uncharacteristically reticent to discuss certain aspects of his military service. Gibbs knew a lot more about it than most, and even he didn't have a very clear picture.

"What's going on with you and the Baltimore Police?" Morrow then asked. "Is NCIS still welcome in that town?"

"Their lieutenant is a waste of air," Gibbs responded. "He postured for a while, so he looked good in front of his men, but he was glad to hand this nightmare over to me. After I assured him that they'd get the credit when I solved it, of course." Referring to the call he'd made to Morrow in the wee hours of the morning, he said, "Like I told you last night, it was their fault we lost the killer, so I don't think he's in a big hurry to have more opportunities to screw up. I'll use them if I need them."

"Keep me in the loop, Jethro," Morrow said, knowing that the conversation was at an end, partially because they'd exhausted the topic, and partially because that was about as long as Gibbs could stand to be on the phone. As he hung up, he wondered about what Ducky was doing to keep Gibbs sane while they waited for something to break.

Ducky was actually wondering the same thing. He would have liked to try and get Gibbs to take a short nap, but he knew there was no chance of that right now, not after he'd just gotten some promising news on the case. The adrenaline would be pumping too hard. Seeking some way to counter that, he said, "Let's go get a quick bite. It could take a few hours before Liz has anything new to report, and you'll need food for energy, if you aren't going to sleep."

Gibbs wasn't particularly hungry, but he was going stir crazy. A change of scenery was definitely in order.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby and Tony had fallen asleep at some point, and it was the sound of footsteps overhead that woke Tony up. "Abby," he said, gently nudging her to wake up. "He's back. You need to move away from me. We don't want to have him see us sitting together; not if our plan has any hopes of succeeding." Then he thought of something he'd meant to deal with earlier. "Listen, if he asks about the gag, tell him I was having trouble breathing," he whispered urgently, wanting her to hurry, since he wasn't sure how much time they had before he came down the stairs. As she scooted away, he looked up at the windows. The sun was streaming through them. 'Surely it isn't evening yet.' He was still wondering about what time it was, when he heard the bolt on the door slide. Looking across the room, he snagged Abby's eyes, and held them for a brief second. Then he gave a brief nod, and steeled himself for whatever was to come.

When the man got down the stairs, he was holding the bucket and a large shopping bag. He seemed to be working hard to ignore Tony, having scanned the room to determine where they both were, and then going directly over to Abby. "Hello Princess. Did you miss me?" he asked her. "I couldn't wait until tonight to see you again, so I left work a little early. You're a bad influence," he said in a flirtatious voice, pressing his index finger to her nose, and giving it a soft tap. Without ever looking away from Abby he asked, "He didn't give you any trouble, did he?"

Abby saw this as her chance to explain away the lack of a gag, and took it, while the man seemed to be in a good mood. "No, I've been ignoring him. He was making these weird wheezing sounds earlier, and seemed to be having trouble breathing, so I took the gag out of his mouth. I hope you don't mind, but I couldn't go back to sleep with all the racket," she said, making her eyes as wide and innocent as possible, and offering up a winsome smile.

"That's okay sweetie," he said. "To tell you the truth, I'd forgotten about the gag. It's my fault. I'm sorry you had to get close to him, though."

"Hey, HE is right over here," Tony called from across the basement, wanting to deflect the conversation from Abby's actions.

"No one's talking to you," the man growled, looking away from Abby for a moment to glare at Tony. "You need to be quiet."

"I want to know why I'm here," Tony persisted, and before he could say more, the man interrupted him.

"You're here for your own good. That should be enough for you right now," the killer snapped. "Now shut up. You ruined my time with Abby this morning; don't do it again." After his outburst, he fell silent and just stared at Tony, his face a mix of longing and revulsion. Finally, giving a visible shudder, he managed to turn away from Tony, and refocus his attention on Abby.

Tony watched, not having missed the man's reaction to him. He decided to wait a few minutes and see what the man intended to do next. He knew his interruption had prevented the man from thinking too hard about what Abby had done, so he was feeling a little more relaxed about his proximity to her.  
"I brought you that surprise I promised you earlier. Can you guess what it is?" he asked Abby, as he turned his body a bit more, so that his back was completely facing Tony, and sat on the ground in front of Abby, pulling the bag next to him.

"Something to eat?" Abby asked, already knowing she was right. "Maybe something sweet?" Playing along with him was proving even harder than she'd imagined, since all she really wanted to do was spit in his face, and call him every foul name she knew.

"You're such a smart girl," he said. "It's something special for dessert." When he reached out and rubbed his hand across her cheek, it was all she could do to keep from vomiting. "But first you have to eat your dinner, and then you can have your treat. I didn't know what you'd want, so I brought you a couple of choices. I have a veggie sub, and a meat lover's sub. Which would you like, darling?" he asked.

"I'll take the veggie one," Abby opted, knowing she needed to eat something to keep up her strength.

"I thought you might like that," he said. "I figured a girl like you might be a vegetarian. That's probably why you have such a wonderful figure," he complimented, as he reached into the bag and pulled out a sandwich. Once he'd extracted it, he removed the wrapper, to make sure it was the correct one, then he spread the wrapper out like a napkin on Abby's lap and placed the sandwich atop it. "I'm sorry I ran out of food this morning, I hadn't been expecting to have guests. But I've stocked up now, so we should be fine. Go ahead, dig it," he urged, as he dug back into the bag and pulled out another sub for himself.

Abby wanted to ask him what he had meant, when he said a girl like you, but thought it best to let the comment slide. She didn't want to risk getting him angry at her; that would ruin what Tony was planning. So instead, she complied, wrapping her cuffed hands awkwardly around the sandwich, and bringing it up to her mouth.

"Hey, what about me?" Tony said from across the room. "I'm hungry, too. Don't I get something to eat?"

The man stiffened slightly, but resolutely refused to look at Tony. "You're an animal, not a person," he answered, "and like all pets, you'll get the table scraps, so just be quiet and wait." He started to eat his own sandwich.

Abby managed to swallow about half the sub before her stomach threatened to rebel. "That was very good," she told their captor as she set the sandwich down, "but I can't eat anymore. I'm getting full, and I want to save room for the dessert you brought me." She managed to dredge up another smile.

The man laughed, and said, "You know, Mother always said good girls dressed conservatively and had healthy appetites, but I always thought she was wrong. Just look at you. She wouldn't have approved of you. You wear short skirts and leather, eat like a bird, and yet you're one of the sweetest girls I've ever dated. I think Mom was just out of touch with the younger generation of women." Then his face changed, became harder and a bit distant, and he looked away from Abby. "But she was right about boys. She said they were dangerous and dirty, that they needed to be punished. They strut and pose and touch themselves. They have unclean, perverted thoughts, and deserve to be locked up so they don't do something bad. They're ruled by their bodies, not their minds, and they tease and bully and…"

Abby could see he was getting himself worked up, and that scared her. She looked quickly over at Tony and saw that he was listening to the man carefully, with a thoughtful expression on his face. Afraid to let it go on much longer, she decided to try and snap him out of it. "Hey," she said, reaching out to touch his shoulder. When he stopped talking, and looked back at her in surprise, she smiled and said, "Do you know what? You never told me your name." She gave him another smile. "I've just been thinking of you as my knight as shining armor."

"Will," he said softly. "Mother always called me Billy, but I like Will. Will and Abby – it sounds nice, doesn't it?"

"Very nice. Will is a beautiful name," she agreed. "Hurry and eat your sub so we can get to dessert," she urged, wanting to keep him focused on the present.

"I'm really not that hungry," he said, as he looked at her. "Let me feed the dog, and then we'll get to your treat." He took the remnants of her sub and put them on the wrapper next to his own. Then he stood up, and walked over to Tony, tossing the leftover food onto the ground next to him, again not quite looking directly at him. "Try not to make too much noise while you chew," he said, as he returned to Abby and sat back down.

Tony looked at the food, as it lay on the ground in front of him. He would have liked to refuse to eat it on principle, but knew that would be foolish. Who knew when he'd have the opportunity to eat again; he couldn't afford to let this one slip by. He would need the energy the food provided. Reaching out, he pulled some meat out of the killer's sub, and brought it to his mouth. Watching what was happening across the room, he began to chew.

"Okay, so I promised you a treat, and here it is," the killer was saying to Abby as he dug back into the bag and pulled out one of the small boxes bakeries often use. "Ta Da" he said, when he had the box all the way out. "Let me open it for you," he said, as he pulled the tabs of the lid apart, and spread out the flaps, revealing a fancy, one person sized chocolate cake, with a plastic fork nestled along the side of the box. "This would be easier to eat if you weren't cuffed, but I know how you Gothic girls like your bondage. Let me feed it to you. That's more romantic, anyway," he said, as he reached for the fork, and cut off a small bite. Lifting it towards Abby's mouth he said, "Open wide."

Abby didn't have much choice except to comply, so she accepted the cake and even managed to smile as she chewed. "It's very good," she told him. "Chocolate's my favorite."

He beamed at her. "I was sure it would be. Ready for another?" he asked, as he forked off another bite, and brought it to her mouth.

Abby ate that one, too, and then said, "You try it. Let's share." She hoped he would take her up on the offer and not force her to eat all of the rich pastry. Ordinarily she would love a piece of chocolate cake, but she didn't really trust her stomach right then. She was very relieved when he did as she suggested, and together, they made short work of the cake.

"This is just the way a good first date should go," the man told Abby. "You've got a little icing stuck to your lip," he told her, as he reached out and ran a finger over her top lip. He let his hand linger there, and he started to lean in, as if to kiss her.

"Hey Billy," Tony called, wanting to stop the killer before he could actually kiss Abby. "Got any water in that bag? I'm thirsty."

The man had frozen when Tony called him Billy. He sprang up, grabbed a huge bottle of water out of the bag and rushed over to Tony. "Water? You want water?" he screamed, as he opened up the bottle. "Here. Here's your water!" He dumped the water all over Tony. "This is where you need the water. Maybe it'll wash away some of your filth." When the bottle was empty, he flung it at Tony, and then reached down and grabbed his head by his hair, pulling Tony up to him. Tony stumbled some, as the resistance from the rope on his ankle prevented him from getting his balance right away. He reached up, trying to dislodge the killer's hand, but didn't have much luck, since his hands were slick from the water, and he had trouble getting a good grip with his arms cuffed together. The man's other hand was gliding across Tony's now wet chest, alternately stroking and pinching.

"Good thing you took my vest off, I'd have hated for it to get ruined," Tony sassed him, his only real recourse at that point being words.

"I took your vest off because you don't deserve clothes," the man panted, his voice raspy and stilted. "You just use them to advertise your own sluttishness," he growled, as his hand continued to explore Tony's body.

"Let go of me," Tony demanded, as he tried to knock the man's hand away, and arched away from his touch.

"That's not what you really want me to do, is it?" the man asked, as he fisted Tony's genitals through the fabric of his jeans. "You want me to give in and fuck you, don't you? Because you're a whore." He slid his hand around to Tony's ass, and tried to pull him closer, while Tony tried to twist away.

"Did you like undressing me, Billy Boy? While I was unconscious?" Tony asked, as he worked to get out of the man's grasp. "What would your mother say?"

That statement had the desired effect. The man pushed Tony away, causing him to fall, and kicked Tony in the groin. "You're a pig. Leave my mother out of this. Its bad enough Abby has to see you behaving like this. Coming on to me, rubbing up against me like a dog in heat. Trying to make me forget all about my date." Then he leaned over Tony, who was curled up in a ball, trying to work through the pain of the kick. Putting his arms on either side of fallen man's body, Will rubbed his body up and down Tony, as he said in his ear, "I won't give in to you. I'm better than you, and I've got Abby to prove it." Then he bent his head down and bit viciously on Tony's shoulder. When Tony moaned from the pain, the killer pushed himself back up. He stood rigid for a minute, staring down at Tony, then he forced himself to look away.

He took a couple of steps backwards, and then turned to face Abby. She could see the glaze slowly beginning to retreat from his eyes. When he seemed to be more controlled, he looked at her and said, "I'm so sorry Sweetie. He's done it again. Just when we were really getting serious. I've punished him for you, but I need to get some air for a bit. I'm going to take a quick drive to clear my head, and then we'll get back to our date. I just need some space for a bit - need to be away from the dog - or I won't be good company. Can you wait for me?"

Abby didn't trust herself to speak, so she mutely nodded her head, trying not to look at Tony, and fighting back the tears so he wouldn't see them.

"I knew you'd understand. You're not like the other girls. You're just what I need; someone to help me. I'll be back soon," he said. Then, as he turned to leave, he kicked Tony hard one more time. "Don't bother Abby while I'm gone. I'll teach you a lesson when I get back." With that parting threat, he flew up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Abby and Tony could both hear the bolt on the door slide into place as he left.

"Tony!" Abby whispered, as she rushed over to him. His shoulder was bleeding profusely, and he was struggling for breath. "You pushed him too much!"

"Give him….time to…. leave," Tony managed to whisper back, his words coming in short stutters, as Abby threw herself on top of him, as if trying to protect him with her body. "I…. couldn't let him…. kiss you," he offered as an explanation.

"Shhh," Abby answered, aware of how difficult speech was for him at that point. When she was sure it was safe, she softy began to sing, "Remember Me This Way," while Tony struggled to get himself back under control.


	14. Chapter 14

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Fourteen**

They were just finishing their late lunch/early dinner when Gibbs' cell phone chirped again. Gibbs set his burger down and quickly pulled the phone out of the breast pocket of his jacket, looking at the display as he did. "It's Liz," he told Ducky, as he pushed the button and brought the phone to his ear.

"Number fourteen – it's number fourteen! William Jay Jeffers. Tech got one of the shots from the tape cleaned up enough to enlarge, and it's definitely number fourteen! The car is definitely a black Jeep Cherokee, and he's got one registered to him."

"Had you all contacted him yet?" Gibbs asked.

"Hadn't gotten to him yet. Want me to try now?" she asked.

"No!" Gibbs all but yelled. "Don't do anything with him. Give me the address from the license," he ordered. "Ducky and I will check it out," he said, as he pulled a pen and small notepad out of his right hip pocket.

"It's a Baltimore address," Liz said, "2973 Fillmore Avenue, apartment 2B."

"Do you have a phone number?" Gibbs asked, after he'd jotted down the address.

"410-555-9034," she told him.

"Call the Baltimore PD and have them put an APB out on him and the Jeep, Liz. Work on getting me all available information on him, while I head over there," he ordered, then hung up.

"Let's go," he told Ducky, as he stood, grabbing his notebook. Gibbs hurried up to the cash register to pay the bill, and while he was doing that, he asked the blousy middle aged woman behind the counter if she knew where Fillmore Avenue was located.

"Sure, honey. It's one of the big ones and runs parallel from this here one. You just need to go about ten blocks east, and you should hit it," she said, as she handed him his change. He shoved a five back at her, saying it was for his waitress, and then hurried out to the car, Ducky scurrying behind him to keep up.

As Gibbs threw the car in reverse, he said, "Reach under your seat, Duck."

Ducky complied, keeping one hand on the door rest to steady himself as the car whipped out of the parking lot, and barreled out onto the street. At first he didn't feel anything, but then his hand touched a soft piece of cloth, with something wrapped inside it. Pulling it out, he found himself holding a pale blue lump that looked like part of an old blanket. Unwrapping it, he found a Magnum nestled inside.

"It's loaded," Gibbs said. "Go ahead and take it. It isn't safe for you to be unarmed."

"Your backup?" Ducky asked, as he looked the gun over, checking the chamber and making sure the safety was on.

"One of them," was Gibbs answer. "Always liked that gun," he commented, as he ran a red light while blaring his horn to warn anyone brave enough to get in his way. As he watched for Fillmore, he thought about what Liz had told him. It bothered him that Jeffers lived in an apartment. He and Tony had been sure he had somewhere isolated that he could take the victims. An apartment didn't fit the bill. When he read the next street sign, he made a sharp right turn. "Look for street numbers," he instructed Ducky.

"That building said 9733 Fillmore," Ducky said, indicating a large office building on his right that they'd just flown past.

"Are they getting bigger or smaller?" Gibbs asked, concentrating, too intent on driving to look to his side.

"Bigger," Ducky said, as they sailed past another building, this one labeled as 9775.

Gibbs slowed down and pressed down on the horn again, pulling a sharp U-turn, which caused several oncoming cars to slam on their brakes and their horns, simultaneously. Ignoring the outraged drivers, Gibbs stepped on the accelerator and the car lurched forward.

It took them what seemed like forever to Gibbs, but was actually only eight minutes, to get to the right address. It was an older building, made of light tan brick, only four stories tall, with a deep green canopied awning over the front entrance, the address stenciled in white across the front. Gibbs didn't bother trying to find a parking place. He stopped the car in front of the building, effectively blocking in a red Beemer, and pulled out the keys. Hopping out, he went around and opened the trunk. Pulling out two bullet proof vests with NCIS emblazoned on their fronts, he tossed one to Ducky. "Stay behind me when we get up there," he told the M.E. "We don't know if he's armed or not," he said as he buckled on the other vest. He waited impatiently while Ducky finished fastening the Velcro closures, then headed for the front door of the apartment building.

Upon entering, Gibbs crossed immediately to the stairs at the back of the entry hall and began to climb. When he and Ducky got to the second floor, he quickly located #2B. Making sure that Ducky was behind him and had his gun drawn, Gibbs withdrew his own gun, and then knocked on the door. When there was no answer, he knocked again. After again getting no response, he reached in to his jacket and withdrew a small leather case from his interior jacket pocket. Opening it up, he pulled out a silver lock pick. It only took him a few moments to get the door unlocked; then, holding his gun out, he pushed the door open.

"NCIS," he called. "Show yourself." When he got no response, he stepped in.

The apartment was dark; the few windows had been blocked by heavy green and gold damask curtains. It was hot, and the air was still, suggesting no one had been in the apartment for a while. The furniture was old fashioned, overstuffed floral patterned, and lace antimacassars graced the arms of the chairs and the back of the sofa. Gibbs pushed his way through the living room, and headed for the hallway. When he came to a closed door, he pushed it open, gun at the ready. He found himself looking at a bedroom that was a throw-back to the seventies. The gold and olive green patterns on the bedspread warred with the rust and brown floral designs of the curtains. The old Victorian styled bed sat in the middle of the room, and a large dresser took up most of the opposite wall, with perfume bottles and jewelry boxes that were spread out over the top, all of it covered in several layers of dust. He went to the closet and took a cursory look. Ladies clothing and shoes were crammed into it.

"Nothing," he muttered, wondering if Liz had gotten the right address. "Let's keep looking." He headed back to the hallway.

Walking further down it, he came to another closed door. Repeating the process he'd followed earlier, he pushed open the door. This room contained a small twin bed, covered in an old green wool army blanket. The walls were bare, and rather than curtains, the window was covered in tan metal blinds. A tall narrow dresser sat on one wall, and an oak student's desk took up part of another. Gibbs reached over and flipped on the light switch next to the door. There were five framed pictures sitting on top of the dresser, and he walked over for a better look. The first picture was of an elderly, stern looking woman with silver hair, and scowl that would have stopped even him in his tracks, but it was the other four pictures that made him take a deep breath. Each frame held a picture of one of the four murder victims. The pictures had most likely been taken post mortem, as the men and women had their eyes shut, and their faces had the slack muscled expression that all dead bodies seemed to have in common.

"This is the right guy," Gibbs said, indicating the pictures. "These were the first four victims. But I doubt if he brought them here. I don't even think he's been here lately. The place feels more like a museum than an apartment that someone's living in. We need to get a forensics team in here, and see what they find," he said, as he pulled his phone and the small notebook out. Thumbing through the pages of the notebook, he found what he was looking for and then he punched a number into the phone.

"Dawson," he said, when his call was answered. "It's Gibbs. I'm at 2973 Fillmore, apartment 2B, home of William Jay Jeffers. He's our perp," he stopped to listen to what the lieutenant was saying.

"Too late for that. I'm already in. He's not here, and neither are Abby and DiNozzo, but you need to get a team over here as fast as possible to process the apartment. He's got framed pictures of your first four murder victims sitting on a dresser in a bedroom, displayed like they were much loved family members." He stopped to listen to Dawson's response.

"By following the clues and using my head, that's how. Got his face off the security tapes at the club. Something you should have done, two murders back." Again he allowed Dawson to speak.

"If I knew where he was, do you think I'd be talking to you right now?" he barked. "Hang up and get your ass in gear. I'm not waiting here more than five minutes," he threatened right before he hung up.

He immediately began punching in another number. "Liz, he isn't here. I need you to see if he has any other property in his name. Run a search for all of Maryland," he said without preamble. "There's no way he's been bringing them here." He stopped talking at her response.

"I'm not at the Yard," Liz said, silently repeating, 'shit, shit, shit,' to herself.

"What do you mean you're not at Headquarters?" he asked, his voice deceptively contained. "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm on my way to Baltimore, to back you up. I left Jim Hanover and Marianne Sexton, the agents Morrow assigned to me, running down the info you asked for," she told him.

"Did I tell you to come here?" he hissed into the phone. "I've got it covered here. I was counting on you to handle everything back there. Get on the phone and call them. Tell them what I need, and tell them to hurry up. Then you get your ass back to D.C.!" He hung up, unable to speak to her anymore. Then, before Ducky even realized what he was doing, he slammed his right fist into the wall next to the dresser.

"I hope that made you feel better," Ducky commented dryly. "I'm sure the wall was very impressed," he added, as he looked to see if the plaster had cracked. "They didn't cover that particular investigative technique when I was in the Service."

Gibbs whirled to look at his intrepid friend. "We're back to having nothing to go on. It's going to take hours to go through everything in this apartment, and there's no guarantee it contains any hints as to where he's got them. And Liz…" He was so angry with his agent he couldn't even finish that thought.

"We're much closer than we were, Jethro. We have a name, a license number and APBs have been issued. Twenty-five minutes ago, we didn't know any of that. Either the police or the agents back at NCIS will find something, and we'll get them back," Ducky said, hoping Gibbs would see reason.

Before Gibbs could answer, they could hear someone calling from the other end of the apartment. Stepping out of the room, Gibbs headed back to the living room.

"Police. Freeze," a young uniformed policeman, who looked all of twelve, called out to Gibbs from the doorway.

Gibbs held his hands up, and said, "I'm Agent Gibbs form NCIS. I'm the one who called this in. Come check my ID," he added, when it became clear that the uniform wasn't going to drop his gun. "My badge and ID are in my back pocket," he told the cop, when he came over to Gibbs, gun still pointed towards him.

The young man pulled out the leather protector that housed Gibbs' badge and ID and looked them over. Reholstering his gun, he began to apologize.

"No need," Gibbs told him. "You did right. I could have been anyone. Did they radio you to come over and watch the apartment?" he asked. When the patrolman confirmed his suspicion, Gibbs ordered him to stay put and watch the place until the detectives arrived. "Tell Dawson to call me immediately on my cell when he gets here," Gibbs instructed him, then he signaled to Ducky that they were leaving.

"Where to?" Ducky asked, as they retraced their steps out of the building.

"Not much we can do right now," Gibbs answered. "So I guess we get coffee while we wait," he said, as he unlocked the car and climbed back in.

Tony slowly began to unfurl from the ball he'd been in since Will had kicked him the first time. The song was over, and Abby was now humming some other tune he didn't recognize. She had slid off him, and was now sitting by his head, so that she could more easily touch his hair, which she softly petted. He hadn't trusted himself to try and speak yet, as he'd been too busy trying not to vomit up the food he'd eaten right before the attack.

"I'm okay," he managed, as he got his legs straightened out somewhat. He slowly rolled onto his back, and gasped out loud as a wave of pain threatened to cause him to black out, and he had to roll back on to his side. Apparently the second kick had landed in the same spot as the one from the morning, and his kidneys felt like they were on fire. The less said about his privates, the better.

"No you're not," Abby sniffled. "This isn't working," she said, and he could hear the soft hiccups as she tried to mask her sobs.

"Yes, it is," he told her. "We're both still alive and he didn't kiss you, or worse."

"We don't know that he would have killed us, and I could have lived through a kiss. He brought dinner, not a gun, Tony. It's not worth this. You're a mess, and we don't have anything to show for it," she answered.

"But we do. We know his name, and we know that he's got a major hang up about dear old mom," Tony pointed out. "Now we've got two ways to get at him, so I consider it a success."

"What's he going to do when he returns?" Abby said fiercely. "You heard him say he'd teach you a lesson when he gets back."

"He's going to make a mistake - that's what he's going to do. I'm going to make him so crazy he won't be able to see straight, and then I'm going to take the fucker out," Tony vowed. "You just have to keep being brave, Abby. That's all I ask. Don't let him win."

"He's going to kill you," she argued.

"No, he isn't. If he did that, he'd have to find another plaything, and I don't think he wants to do that quite yet. It'll be okay Abby, you'll see," he promised. He couldn't let her back down now, not after he'd just learned how to get to the man. Their only hope was if the killer got so careless that he left Tony with an opening; so that was Tony's goal – to make the man insanely angry. "Promise me you'll let me try at least once more. If it doesn't work, then we can come up with something else. Please, Abs," he said, unwittingly using Gibbs' pet name for her.

Hearing him say 'Abs' made her think of Gibbs. "Gibbs'll be mad at you if you do something stupid," she pointed out.

"He'd be madder at me if I let something happen to you," he countered. He'd seen the concern in Gibbs' eyes, every time he'd thought about Abby alone with the mad man. He didn't think there was anything Gibbs wouldn't be willing to do to protect her, and he wasn't about to let the man down. Besides, he'd started to really care about Abby, and he needed to protect her for himself, as well.

Abby couldn't really argue with that, because she knew it was true. That was one of the reasons she trusted Gibbs so much. She knew he'd always try to keep her safe. Sighing, she just reached back out, and ran her fingers through Tony's hair, not bothering to speak.

Tony took a deep breath. He knew he'd just won that round. He just hoped they wouldn't have to have another one. He allowed himself to drift for a long while, giving his body some more time to try and recover from the trauma Will had inflicted on it. He had almost fallen asleep, when he felt Abby shake his shoulder.

"He's back," she whispered. "I just heard a door slam shut."

Glancing up at the window, he saw that it was now dark outside. "Go on back to the other side of the room," Tony hissed at her, and he swallowed down a moan, as he forced himself back up into a sitting position. He needed to be upright when Will came back down the stairs. He didn't have too long to wait, as he heard the bolt slide just moments after he'd succeeded in sitting up.

Will/Psycho Killer came back down the stairs and strode over to where Abby crouched, once again ignoring Tony. "I'm so sorry about that Sweetie," he said. "I just needed some time, or I wasn't going to be good company." He reached out then, and wiped at her eyes. "Did you miss me? Is that why you've been crying? I promised I'd be back soon," he said tenderly.

Abby wasn't sure she could go through with this, but she knew she had to try. She'd made a promise to Tony, in action if not in words. Swallowing the bile that was working its way up her throat, she managed to say, "I'm glad you're back."

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Abby," Will said, just before he reached out and grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her close. Then, releasing her shoulders, he raised his hands to her face, and pulled her in for a kiss. The laughter coming from across the room was what caused him to break it off.

As Will pulled away from Abby, Tony called out, "That's right, Billy Boy. Kiss the girl, just to make Mommy happy. But that's not who you really want to kiss, is it?" he taunted.

"Shut up," Will screamed.

"What's the matter?" Tony asked. "Did I make you mad? Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

The killer leapt to his feet, and reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a sheathed knife. When she saw what he was holding, Abby couldn't stop herself, and she cried out.

"Stay here," the killer ordered her. "I'm going to make him shut up, and I don't want you to get hurt."

"Don't kill him," she pleaded.

Will laughed. "I'm not going to kill him, but I am going to teach him who his master is," the man said.

Abby bit her lip, as the man turned away from her and approached Tony. "Were you talking to me, dog?" the man asked.

"What were you doing? Kissing her, acting like that's what you wanted. Don't you think I know what you really want? Isn't that why you undressed me? Put your stupid collar on me? Do you really think I could want you?" Tony asked him, scorn dripping from his tongue.

Will reached down, and grabbed the collar, forcing a struggling Tony to his feet. Then, using his teeth, he pulled the sheath off the knife he held in his other hand. "I undressed you because only people wear clothes, not animals. I left the jeans on out of respect for Abby, but you've proved that you don't deserve them," he growled. Then he released the collar and grabbed the side of Tony's jeans at the waistband. "Let's see if you're still such a big man when you're naked and cowering, begging me to take you. Then Abby will see you for what you really are," he said, as he slid the knife into the pants and began to slice at the material.

Tony stilled, thinking about this new development. He hadn't counted on the knife. He didn't want to end up naked, but he was afraid to pull away too hard, for fear of being cut. Will wasn't totally out of control yet, but he was close – too close for Tony to count on him having a lot of control over what he did with the knife. Plus, he hadn't intended to physically attack the man until he was sure he could overpower him. He didn't want to give Will any added incentive for physically harming him, knowing he would need all the strength he had left later. Will had cut down the entire length of the right side of his jeans, and had started in on the other side, before Tony decided to goad him again.

"What would your Momma say, if she saw you now, Billy?" he asked. "Bent down in front of an almost naked man?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Will screamed, and slashed harder at the pants, causing the knife to slide to the bottom, but cutting Tony on the calf in the process. Reaching up between Tony's legs, he yanked on the fabric, and the pants came away, just like the breakaway pants in a male strip show.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Tony taunted, trying hard to forget that Abby was across the room watching everything that was happening. "Now you have an excuse for getting excited."

"I don't need to see you naked to have an excuse for thinking you want it," Will snarled, as he stood and ran his eyes up and down Tony's body. "You think I don't remember you in that club? You were rubbing yourself against everyone, letting them touch you and kiss you. And that silver haired man, the one you came in with? Out on the dance floor? He practically had his tongue all the way down your throat. When he broke away, you were panting. I saw you. That was when I knew I had to take you. Before he could. I saved you, you ungrateful whore!" He had been unconsciously rubbing himself with his free hand as he talked to Tony.

"You didn't save me," Tony sneered. "That's not why you took me. You just can't admit what you want, because you mother told you it was dirty and evil. Didn't she? I'll bet she was a real bitch. Did she punish you when you had dreams about men? Or didn't you tell her?" he baited.

Will reached out and punched Tony in the face, catching his nose and upper lip. "Don't you talk about my mother, you dog," he yelled, and stabbed the knife into the place on Tony's shoulder where he'd previously bit him. He then grabbed Tony's hair, and pulled his head to the side and held the knife to his throat. "Take it back!" he yelled. "Take back what you said about my mother, or I'll cut your throat!"

Tony knew he had to ignore the pain. His one and only chance was coming, he could feel it.

"Take it back, dog," Will screamed again.

Ignoring Will's order, Tony said, "Kiss me."

Will stared at him, as if unable to process what Tony had just said. His hand that held the knife lowered away from Tony's neck a bit.

"Go on, kiss me. You know you want to," Tony said, looking up from where the man was still holding his head, and running his tongue over his lips provocatively. Will let go of his hair, allowing Tony to straighten back up, and took one step back. His arm holding the knife was now chest level. "Are you afraid of me?" Tony asked, as he fought against the dizziness he was beginning to feel. "Or are you afraid of yourself?"

Will continued to look at him, mesmerized. Tony could see his eyes glazing over, and knew he had to act right then. "I know what you want," he said seductively, then he licked his lips again, and raised his arms up, barely managing to keep from gasping aloud from the pain that caused in his wounded shoulder. When he had his hands to roughly the same height as the hand with which Will was holding the knife, he ran his fingers across his chest as best he could, and made a sensual moaning sound. When Will shut his eyes to avoid looking at him, and took a deep breath, Tony lunged forward, grabbing the knife with his hands, and plunged it into the man's chest. Unable to stop himself, he fell on top of the killer, as they both collapsed on the ground.

Tony could just barely hear Abby screaming in the background, as he slid into unconsciousness.


	15. Chapter 15

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Ducky sat at a table, studying his companion. They were in some coffeehouse, where Gibbs had just finished consuming his second cup of coffee, while Ducky slowly sipped on a now tepid cup of tea. Gibbs had given up sitting, and was in the process of wearing a hole in the carpet as he paced back and forth, holding his cell phone, occasionally staring at it, as if he could make it ring through sheer force of will. "That isn't going to make it ring any faster," he commented to Gibbs when he paused in his is aimless wandering, to look at the phone again. "Come sit back down, you're scaring the other customers. Let's review what we know, and see if there isn't something better we could be doing," he calmly suggested. After years of working with the man, Ducky knew the best way to keep Gibbs calm was to give him something proactive to focus on. Although he was fairly certain Gibbs hadn't missed anything, at least reviewing the facts would alleviate the sense of helplessness that was slowly driving his friend mad.

"What's there to review?" Gibbs demanded, although he did cease his pacing and return to sit at the table with Ducky, which allowed the other people in the shop to visibly relax. "This has been nothing but a series of dead ends. We send in an undercover cop, complete with tracking device, that the killer grabs, and then go on an hour long wild goose chase across Maryland, only to end up with an abandoned tracker and a pile of clothes. We get a name and address, go there, but no Abby or DiNozzo. So tell me Ducky, just what do….." he stopped mid sentence when he felt that familiar knot reform in his stomach.

"Rocky Bluff. That's the exit he took. Right outside Frederick. I don't think he was trying to fool us, Ducky! I'm sure he didn't even know we were on to him. He was headed somewhere. He's not going to be in Baltimore. He's going to be somewhere close to that 4-H fairground. Come on," Gibbs said excitedly. "We need to head back towards Frederick." He was out of his chair and rushing for the door before Ducky could even process everything he'd just said.

Gibbs already had the car running and was talking into his cell phone by the time Ducky caught up to him. "Hurry up Duck," Gibbs urged as the older man opened the door, interrupting his phone conversation. Turning his attention back to the phone, he said, "Make sure you look in the Frederick area first. Check for recent property purchases, and have someone start calling property management companies in the area and see if Jeffers has rented something around Frederick in the last couple of months. Call the agents you left at headquarters and have them start now, so we don't waste time because you're not back there yet. You've got forty five minutes, Liz. That's how long it's going to take me to get to where we lost him last time, so move it!" After barking out his orders, he disconnected the call. As he pulled the car out into traffic, he fumed to Ducky, "The minute I get back to D.C., she's gone. Her stunt of heading to Baltimore without orders, and leaving two agents unsupervised and directionless, is costing us time we don't have."

Ducky had no response to Gibbs' declaration of intent regarding Liz. Usually he tried to defend young agents from the worst of Gibbs' temper, but this time he was forced to agree with his friend. Abby's life was on the line, and he would never be able to forgive Liz if her actions prevented them from reaching the young forensic scientist in time. As he buckled his seatbelt and grabbed the door handle for extra support, he asked, "Are you going to call the Baltimore P.D.?"

"Not yet," Gibbs replied. "It'll take them a while to process everything in that apartment, and Dawson knows I want to talk to him. He'll call if he finds anything, but probably not before. Doubt if he's in a big hurry to talk to me, unless he's got some good news to tell me. He totally dropped the ball on this investigation, and he knows it, even if he's too big a coward to admit it out loud," he said, as he edged the car around a series of cars that were going too slowly to suit him. "Now, one of his own men is missing and he doesn't seem to be in any bigger hurry to solve the damn thing."

"You seemed fairly impressed with Det. DiNozzo," Ducky ventured, having watched the interaction between the two men when they'd been in the police department morgue, and at the task force briefing. "I hope he has been able to offer some form of protection for Abigail."

"He will if he can," Gibbs said. "Dawson didn't know what he had with that one – couldn't get around his own prejudices. Spent all his time ignoring him, or putting him down."

Ducky had been watching Gibbs as he spoke and was surprised by what he saw. "You intend to recruit him, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. He's quick and conscientious, and isn't afraid to look at things from outside the box. Plus, he's not afraid to stand up to me, so yeah, I want him on the team," Gibbs answered, as he thought about Tony.

"But that's not all, is it?" Ducky asked sagely. He'd known Gibbs a long time, and he was seeing something else on his friend's face, something he hadn't verbalized when he'd been listing DiNozzo's strengths.

"Don't know what you're talking about Ducky," Gibbs said casually, but there was a defensive expression on his face now.

"Yes you do, Jethro. You know exactly what I'm talking about," the crafty older man persisted. "You're interested in him on a personal level, too, aren't you?" They had never spoken about all of Gibbs' dalliances over the years, but Ducky had always suspected they weren't completely on the straight and narrow. Gibbs tended to respond to the person, not the gender, and Ducky had always suspected that carried through to his sex life as well.

"Even if I were, there's Rule #12 to consider," Gibbs answered, not really denying or confirming Ducky's suspicions.

"That's a crock of crap, Jethro and you know it. They're your rules, no one else's, and you can and have broken them in the past, when it suited you. If you're interested in that boy, and have any reason to suspect he feels similarly, you'd better do something about it fast, when we get them back. He won't stay available for too long - not if what you say is true. Smart, competent, good looking young men rarely stay single," Ducky cautioned.

Gibbs squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, as he raced down the highway. He didn't like talking about his love life ever, and he certainly wasn't comfortable discussing his feelings for a young man he barely knew with anyone, not even his best friend. "I'm not going to sit here and gossip about this like a couple of teenage girls, Duck. Let's just concentrate on finding Abby and DiNozzo for now," he said, effectively shutting down the conversation, even as his mind was remembering the way Tony had looked at the bar, and the searing kiss they'd shared.

Ducky didn't pursue the topic, and even managed to hide his smile, but he did make a mental note to watch the interaction between Gibbs and DiNozzo more carefully, once they rescued the two missing young people. Gibbs could be stubborn, and it might just become necessary for him to give a little push, to make sure things developed properly. Gibbs deserved to be happy, and if this DiNozzo could help do that, then Ducky was all for it. For now, he would remain silent, knowing that would actually speak louder to Gibbs than anything he could say.

They drove in silence for the next half hour, which actually served to make Gibbs' more nervous. Ducky was rarely quiet, and the fact that he wasn't talking could only mean that he was silently plotting. Given what their last topic of conversation had been, Gibbs was more than a little uneasy about what the crafty M.E. might be planning. When they pulled off the highway, at the Rocky Bluffs exit, Gibbs realized he'd been so distracted by Ducky, that he hadn't allowed himself to brew over their inability to find Abby and DiNozzo. As he pulled into the deserted 4-H grounds, he set aside thoughts of Tony, and refocused on the case and what he was going to do to Jeffers when he found him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby leapt to her feet, as Tony crumpled to the ground on top of Will, completely unaware of the fact that she had been screaming. She rushed over to where they lay, unsure of what to do. Neither man was moving, and Tony's shoulder, that Will had plunged the knife into, was bleeding profusely. Unfortunately, it was also the one facing up, and although she was afraid to grab it in an attempt to roll him off the other man's body, she didn't see any way around it. Taking a deep breath, she reached out, and tried to gently turn Tony over. He moaned when she touched him, which actually relieved her, because 'dead men don't moan,' she told herself, but he allowed himself to be rolled onto his back. When she successfully had him off the killer, she took a good look at Will. The knife was still firmly embedded in his chest, and it looked as if the blade had gone directly through his heart. It was clear that he was dead, freeing her to focus all of her attention on Tony.

"Tony," she said gently, trying to get him to open his eyes and look at her. When she got no response, she tried again, a little louder this time. "Please Tony, wake up," she called, as she knelt beside him. He was a mess; his entire chest, neck and shoulder were covered in blood, and it was impossible to tell how much of it was his, and how much was what had rubbed off of Will when Tony had landed on top of him. His nose had also bled over his face, from the blow Will had landed right before he'd stabbed Tony, and his upper lip was beginning to swell. She worked her way down to his left leg to inspect the slash that Will had made when he'd cut off the jeans, and discovered that although it was over ten inches long, it didn't look deep enough to be of immediate concern. When she tried to wake Tony again, and still got no response, she knew she'd have to try something else.

Standing back up, she rushed over to get the blanket and pillow, and once again wrapped the blanket around Tony's battered body. Then sliding the pillowcase off the pillow, she used her teeth to help rip the case into strips, which she awkwardly managed to wrap around Tony's shoulder, hoping it would help to staunch the bleeding, after which, she slid the pillow form under Tony's head. Then, crossing back over to Will, she reached the fingers on her right hand into his pants pocket and withdrew his keys. "I'm getting the keys to the cuffs Tony," she told him, ignoring the fact that he was unconscious. She knew the key for the handcuffs was on the ring, as she'd watched carefully that morning, when Will had uncuffed her. It had been marked with a red dot, and it didn't take her long to locate it. She was hoping she'd be able to manipulate it into the lock, with her hands cuffed together. She spent several minutes trying, twisting her hands this way and that, attempting to align the key to the lock. Just when she was ready to throw the ring across the room in frustration, she succeeded. "I did it, Tony!" she crowed, as the cuffs opened up, and her arms were finally free. "I'll be over to free you in just a sec."

Pulling the key from the lock, she crawled back over to Tony. She tried to slide the same key into the lock on his cuffs, but had no success. Studying the keys on the ring, she saw another one that looked similar to the key that had freed her, and tried it. One twist was all it took, and Tony's hands were now freed too. "You can move your arms now," she told his inert body, as his arms slid limply from his chest, to settle on the ground. "Oh God," she choked as she looked at him, and blinked away the tears that had been falling since she had first tried to unsuccessfully wake Tony. They needed help, and they needed it fast. "I'm going upstairs to look for a phone," she said to Tony, and knowing that she wasn't going to get a response, she continued, "I'll call Gibbs, and he'll be here in no time." She stood on shaky legs and headed up the stairs.

When she got the basement door open, she found herself in an empty alcove. It looked as if it was intended to be a small laundry room, since there was a water valve next to an electrical outlet. Walking across the room, she found herself in a kitchen. The green laminated counters were bare, and no curtains graced the window over the sink. The only sign that anyone had been in the room, was the low hum from the refrigerator, that indicated that it was plugged in and running. Looking around, she spotted a phone on the wall, and she rushed over to it, but when she got the receiver to her ear, she discovered there was no dial tone. She just dropped it, not even bothering to hang it back up, and went through the door to her right, stepping into a large room that was clearly intended to be living room, since there was a large picture window and a door to the outside on one wall. Like the kitchen, this room showed no signs of habitation. The walls and windows were bare, and not a single piece of furniture existed. Abby was beginning to feel a little like Alice in Wonderland, lost in a world that made no sense. In the end, she investigated four more rooms, each as empty as the one before. In the final room, she'd found a sleeping bag and pillow, and a small overnight suitcase, so she knew where Will had been spending the night. The bathroom attached to that room, had yielded soap, shampoo, a toothbrush and tooth paste and an electric razor, but little more. Nowhere had she found another phone.

'The neighbors,' she told herself, just as she was beginning to panic. 'The neighbors would have a phone.' She hurried to the front door that had been located in the empty living room. Opening the door, she was surprised to discover it was evening, and the sun was rapidly setting, realizing time had ceased to mean anything to her while she had been trapped in the basement. She stepped outside and looked around. The house was surrounded by fields of tall corn on two sides, and the backyard seemed to abut to a woods. The front yard was a mix of tall hedges and trees, and she couldn't see the road from where she stood. There wasn't another house visible, no matter which way she looked. A black Jeep was parked on a gravel drive which ran up to the house, and when she walked over and looked down it, she could just barely make out what must be the road that led to the house. Not knowing what else to do, she ran down the drive as fast as her exhausted body would let her, ignoring the pain that shot through her bare feet, only to discover that once she reached the small country road, she could still see no other signs of civilization. Completely overwhelmed, she collapsed to the ground and curled her hands up over her head, giving in to the body wracking sobs that had threatened to overtake her ever since she's woken up here, Monday morning. It took her several minutes until she could get herself back to some semblance of control, and when she was finally able to stand again, she took another look down the deserted road, and then turned and limped back to the house, this time very aware of the sharp gravel that bit into her unprotected feet. She couldn't leave Tony alone any longer, and she knew her only hope now would be either Gibbs finding her, or Tony waking up enough that she could get him out to the Jeep.

When she got back to the basement door she spotted a light switch. Flicking it on, a bare light bulb screwed into the ceiling above the landing came on. It was very weak, probably no more than 25 watts, but it did cast a faint glow into the room below, even if it was barely more illumination than a nightlight might have provided.. After she got down to the bottom, she discovered that Tony had moved a little since she'd gone exploring. Just like earlier in the day, he was once again curled in a fetal position, and the blanket had torqued and now only partially covered him. As she gazed at him, she could see the ugly, dark bruises stretched out across his lower back. Her makeshift bandages on his shoulder were stained with blood, but she was hesitant to remove them, in case they were doing some good. "Oh Tony," she sighed, as she reached down to pull the blanket back over him, "It's going to be okay, you'll see." She sat down beside him, and ran her hand across his forehead, horrified to discover he was burning up. "Tony," she called, trying once again to wake him. "Come on Tony, it's Abby. You need to wake up now, Tony," she said, as she started to cry softly again when his only response was a small moan, as he pulled into an even tighter ball.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ducky and Gibbs were sitting in the parked car, watching the night settle over them, trying to keep their hope alive. They hadn't been at the 4-H grounds overly long, but it was that time of day when the sun seemed to simply disappear in the blink of the eye, leaving behind only a dim glow along the horizon to remind you that it had ever been there. The crickets had come out a while back, and the air was still and heavy with the rain that had threatened all day, but never arrived. Ducky was just about to ask Gibbs what he wanted to do, when the cell phone began to chirp.

"I think I know where he is," Liz said, when Gibbs answered. "We just found a record of a William Jeffers having bought some property in Fredrick County, MD. It was for one hundred and fifty acres and is between two little towns, Middleburg and Johnsville. He just bought it about a month and a half ago. We haven't been able to find a phone number registered to the address yet, but we're still looking," she told Gibbs.

"How do you get there?" Gibbs barked at her, very glad he'd listened to his gut earlier, and chanced the drive west.

"You take Interstate 70 to a small country road called Rocky Bluff. Go 15.4 miles down that, and turn left on Rural Route 27, also called Courett Road, and it's another 8 miles down that. The house number is 29763."

"Tell me again," he ordered, as he signaled for Ducky to listen.

Gibbs repeated the directions after her this time, while Ducky jotted them down on the small pad of paper Gibbs had tossed at him when Liz had said they'd found something, as he started the car and backed out of the spot he'd parked in. He was already out on Rocky Bluff, headed north, by the time Liz had finished.

"Do you want me to call the state police?" she asked.

"No!" Gibbs roared, unwilling to risk Abby's and Tony's lives to people who probably had no hostage situation training. With just himself and Ducky, he had a chance of sneaking up on the perp, and taking him unawares. "I'm almost there now," he told her. "I'll take care of it."

"Gibbs, it's about fifty minutes outside of Baltimore," Liz started to protest.

"Obviously I must not be in Baltimore, then," he snapped at her. "You just stand by, at headquarters," he added, remembering what had happened earlier, "in case I need you to do anything. If you don't hear from me in an hour, then go ahead and call the locals – but advise them to approach with extreme caution, and warn them that there are potential hostages. Got that?" he demanded.

"Yes, Sir," Liz responded, and Gibbs was so tired of her, he didn't even bother to correct her, merely contenting himself with closing the phone, thereby ending the conversation.

"When we get there Ducky, I'll park the car out of sight from the house. Once we know what we're looking at, we'll figure out how best to proceed. I want to catch him by surprise, so he doesn't have time to turn it into a hostage situation."

"That would certainly be best, Jethro," Ducky agreed. After that, silence reigned again. There was little left to say at the moment, and Gibbs was busy watching the mile gage on the dashboard, while Ducky looked out the window for a sign that announced RR27 or Courett Road.

Once they'd gone five miles on Courett Road, Gibbs forced himself slow down to thirty miles an hour. It was now truly dark, and he didn't want to risk missing the house. As he drove, he had to admit that Jeffers had chosen the location well. There were few houses, and the ones that did exist were separated by acres of farmland. There would be no chance of nosy neighbors seeing or hearing something they shouldn't. Finally the headlights of the car illuminated a silver mailbox, with 29763 painted on its side. Both he and Ducky said, "There it is," at the same time. Gibbs slowed down even more, and glanced down the driveway as they crept by. When he'd gone another 20 yards, he pulled over and turned the car off.

"If we cut up through the first row of that cornfield, to the left of the drive, it should provide us with cover, and yet allow us to keep an eye on the drive," he suggested to Ducky, as he turned back to look at the entrance to the property. He reached into the back seat, to retrieve the vests he'd thrown in there, after the debacle at Jeffers' apartment, and asked, "Are you still carrying the gun I gave you?"

When Ducky confirmed that he was, they got out and put the vests back on. Then, with Gibbs in the lead, they began to quietly edge through the corn field, never getting far enough in, that they lost sight of the drive. It didn't take them long to get up to the house, which was a medium sized, single story home. They could see large trees in the front and side yard, and tall bushes surrounding the perimeter of the house. Gibbs leaned over and whispered to Ducky, "I'm going to make a dash to the bushes by the side of the house; after I make sure it's safe, I'll signal you." Before Ducky could answer, he was gone.

Gibbs successfully made it across the yard, and slid into a clump of bushes growing up under window. When he was sure that no one had heard or seen his approach, he eased his head up to spy through the glass. The inside of the house was dark and there was no sign of movement. Quietly sliding further down along the outside of the house, he came to another set of darkened windows. He once again looked in, only to find there was no sign of life. When he moved around to the back, he was surprised to see a faint light shining on the ground in front of him. As he inched his way forward, he saw that it was coming from a tiny window that obviously opened up into a basement. Crouching down, he carefully peered through the dirty glass. The window was barred, making it difficult to get a clear picture of the room, but his heart started beating more rapidly when he saw a woman's shape, wrapped around a large cloth bundle. Her face was hidden from view, but he was sure it was Abby he was seeing. The dark hair, skirt and shirt helped to distinguish her. He couldn't see who she was cradling, since her body, and whatever was wrapped around the shape, was blocking his view, but he was sure it was a person. Her head was bent down and it looked like she was gently rocking the body, but he couldn't be sure. He looked past her and saw another shape lying on the ground. This one wasn't covered up, and he could tell it was a man from its size, but the light wasn't spilling over onto it well, and he couldn't tell much more, although it was clear that whoever it was, wasn't moving. 'God, I hope he didn't have another captive we knew nothing about,' Gibbs thought, as he slowly and silently backed away from the window. 'Where is Jeffers?' he wondered, as he crept back towards the side where Ducky was waiting. He'd seen the black Jeep in the driveway, so he knew he was there somewhere.

Drawing his gun, he waved to Ducky, who moved surprisingly fast, given his age. When they were safely crouched side by side in the bushes, Gibbs whispered, "There's a basement window around the back. There's a light on, but it's very dim. I was able to make out Abby and someone else, lying on the ground, but I couldn't get much detail. It looks like Abby may be holding a third person, but I can't be sure. I'm going to go in through the front door, and I want you to watch through the basement window. I can't locate Jeffers, so I don't know if he's asleep somewhere on the main floor, or if he's somewhere else. You need to be careful, Duck. There's no guarantee that he isn't outside somewhere. Stay in the shrubs, and he'll never be able to see you. Once it's safe, I'll signal you through the window."

With that said, Gibbs began to inch towards the door, keeping his body pressed to the side of the building. When he got to the front, he bent down, and crawled forward, under the picture window built into the front of the house, and over to the front door. Very slowly and gently, he turned the handle, and was rather surprised when the door began to push open. Holding his breath, he pushed harder, until there was an opening large enough for him to slide through. Stepping gingerly in, his gun held in front of him, he stood still and looked around as his eyes adjusted to the dark. The room appeared to be totally empty, which was more than a little odd. He spied an opening in one wall that clearly led to the back of the house. Moving on cat feet, he traversed the open distance, and stepped into to the next room. He was in the kitchen. There was a faint glow coming from one end, and after assuring himself that Jeffers wasn't lurking in the shadows, he moved towards the light, only to find himself in what had once clearly been a laundry room. Across from where the washer and dryer had once stood, was another door, cracked open to reveal it to be the source for the very faint light that spilled out. Once again plastering himself to the wall, Gibbs crept forward, sure that this was the door to the basement. Gibbs was fairly sure that Jeffers would be in the basement, but it bothered him that Abby had clearly been entirely focused on what she had been cocooning. Wouldn't she have been watching Jeffers' if he'd been down there? He needed to know what was going on down there, and that left him with one choice – he needed to go down the stairs.

Sidling forward, he offered up silent thanks to whoever had last gone down the stairs for having left the door open wide enough for him to slide through. When he stepped onto the landing, he held his gun out, ready to shoot if the need arose, and stood still, listening for movement. But the only sound he heard was Abby, softly humming a quiet song he didn't recognize. Staying tight against the wall, he began to quietly descend, prepared for Jeffers to attack at any moment. As he got lower, and could see more clearly, he was horrified by what he discovered. The body on the floor was indeed a man, and although he couldn't be sure from where he stood, he was fairly confident that it was Jeffers. He was able to see the hilt of a knife protruding from his chest. Looking to the left of the body, he could see Abby more clearly. Her face and arms were streaked in blood, and the body she was holding in her arms belonged to Tony. His head was lying on a pillow, and his face, which was also covered in blood, was facing the stairs. One quick look around the rest of the basement assured him that they were alone.

"Abby" he said, as he moved towards her. A quick glance at the man lying on the floor told him it was indeed Jeffers, and he was clearly dead.

Abby raised her head, and looked up at him through tearing eyes, blinking a few times, as if she didn't trust what she was seeing. "Gibbs?" she whispered. "Is it really you?"

"Yeah, Abs, it's me," he gently assured her as he got to where she knelt, holding Tony.

"Thank God," she breathed. "You've got to help Tony, Gibbs. He's hurt really bad, and I didn't know what to do for him."

Gibbs looked up and spotted the window. He gave a broad gesture and called out, "Ducky, get in here quick. Jeffers is dead, but Abby and Tony need you." Then he turned his attention back to Abby and Tony. "Where are you hurt, Abs?" he asked, as he wiped at the blood on her face, since he couldn't see the source of the blood she was covered in, and gently cradled her face with his hand.

"I'm not," she answered. "That's Tony's blood. He's been stabbed and beaten, and he hasn't regained consciousness since he killed Jeffers. That's why we're still here. I couldn't get him out of the basement." She hiccupped, trying to stop her crying, but refusing to let go of her hold on Tony. "I don't know how much blood he's lost, and it feels like he's on fire."

Gibbs had his phone out, and was dialing 911, even as she spoke. When the operator answered, he gave the address and informed her there was an officer down, and that he needed an ambulance right away. By the time Ducky got down the stairs, he'd already hung up. "Ducky, Tony's been stabbed, and Abby says he's been unconscious for a long time," he told the M.E. as he approached.

When Ducky knelt down beside them, he said softly, "Abby, move back and let me look at him. I need to see where he's been wounded," but even with his request, Gibbs had to gently pry her away from Tony's prone body.

Gibbs had removed a small flashlight from his pocket, and was shining it on the fallen man, to aid Ducky in his examination. The flashlight revealed the swelling and bruising on Tony's face. Reaching out, Ducky eased the blanket down. Gibbs involuntarily sucked in his breath when he saw what the blanket had been concealing. Tony was naked, and his body was covered in blood. His right shoulder had been wrapped in some kind of cloth, but the wound had clearly continued to bleed after it had been dressed with the make shift bandage. It was hard to tell what color the cloth had originally been, since it was now almost entirely dark red, from large amounts of drying blood. His back and hips were covered in bruises. 'What the hell happened down here,' he wondered, but knew that now was not the time to ask for details.

Ducky was taking his pulse, and clearly didn't like what he was finding. "He's alive, but his pulse if very weak and thready. He needs medical attention immediately. There isn't much I can do for him here, Jethro. I don't have anything with me, and I'm afraid to take the wrappings off his shoulder, for fear it would start bleeding again. I'm going to cover him back up. All we can do right now is keep him warm. You might want to untie him, though," Ducky added, indicating the rope tied around Tony's left ankle.

Gibbs looked down, and saw what Ducky was referring to; he reached into another pocket, and pulled out a small switchblade, which he used to slice through Tony's bond, noticing the long cut on his leg as he did that. When he looked back up, Abby was once again leaning over Tony, softly running her fingers through his hair, whispering to him. "Tony, Gibbs is here now, and everything's going to be fine, just like I promised you. An ambulance is on its way, so you just need to hold on a little while longer. You can do that for me, can't you?" she pleaded. "Just a little bit longer."

Then looking up, she fixed her eyes on Gibbs. "It is going to be okay, isn't it?" she asked. "Tell me it is Gibbs," she demanded, more forcefully.

Gibbs wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and pulled her into his body. "It's going to be just fine, Abs," he assured her, and looked over at Ducky, to see if the doctor could confirm the statement he'd just made. Ducky's only answer was a sad little shrug


	16. Chapter 16

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Sixteen**

As he sat in the visitor's chair in Tony's hospital room, watching the wounded man sleep, Gibbs thought back over the evening. The scene in the hospital's emergency room had not been pretty, and Gibbs was fairly sure he could add Frederick County General Hospital to the ever growing list of places he wouldn't be welcomed back. As a matter of fact, he might have to list _all _of Frederick County. In retrospect, he would have to admit that things had started to go downhill even before they left Jeffers' house.

As they had waited for the ambulance to arrive, Gibbs had placed a quick call to Templeton, to let her know that they had Abby and Tony, only to be told that since she hadn't heard from him, she had put together a team and they were headed towards the house, even as they spoke. That had caused him to look at his watch – it was twelve minutes past the deadline he'd given her. She must have put together a team the minute they'd hung up earlier. "You didn't think a call was in order?" he asked.

"I was afraid I'd tip off the killer," was Liz's reply.

Gibbs didn't bother reminding her that if he'd been captured, the killer would have _already_ been tipped off; instead he settled for ordering her to process the basement, jeep, and house when she got there, since he would be at the hospital with Abby and Tony.

When the State Police had shown up, having been alerted to the situation by Liz, after she had decided that Gibbs needed rescuing, irritation had started to mix with the worry that had already been consuming him.

They'd come barreling down the stairs, guns drawn, yelling for everyone to freeze. One glance at Jeffers' dead body had ratcheted their anxiety into overdrive, and when Gibbs had tried to identify himself, they'd waved their guns at him and shouted at him to shut up. He'd been forced to wait for them to come over and remove his badge holder for themselves, before he could talk again.

All of this had only served to further upset Abby. She had draped her body protectively over Tony's, and was once again in tears, with Ducky crouched down beside her, trying to calm her down.

Meanwhile, Gibbs did battle with the police. They had a very loud argument about jurisdiction, which Gibbs ultimately won, but not before he completely lost his temper, and threatened to arrest them for interfering in a federal investigation. That had just been settled, when the EMS had finally arrived. After taking Tony's vitals, hooking him up to an IV and oxygen, and quickly checking Abby over, they'd loaded them both in the ambulance and arrangements were made for Gibbs to follow behind the ambulance, as it made its way to the hospital.

Twenty minutes later, Gibbs and Ducky had followed the gurneys through the emergency room doors. Tony had been wheeled directly into a trauma room. Ducky had introduced himself to the head doctor on duty, who had promised to keep him updated on Tony's condition, and then rushed off to start treating Tony.

While that was going on, Gibbs had found himself having his third argument in the last thirty minutes, when the hospital staff had not wanted to let him back into the examination room with Abby, who was clutching his arm in a vice like grip. Abby had actually been the one to end that battle, when she'd told the nurse that Gibbs was her father, and that she wanted him with her. Although the woman had clearly not believed her, she had stopped arguing, and Gibbs was allowed to stay in the room. A young female resident had come in, and after determining that the blood Abby was covered in wasn't her own, had tended to Abby's feet, which were a mess of cuts from the gravel in the drive, and started her on an IV to supplement her fluids. A nurse was assigned the task of cleaning Abby up, and the doctor had decreed that Abby was also suffering from minor shock and insisted that she spend the night in the hospital for observation. Then she had excused herself, telling them that she needed to go and help with Tony and that someone would be along in a while to take Abby up to a room.

At that point, Abby had announced that she wasn't going anywhere until she knew how Tony was doing, and Gibbs had backed her up, forcefully. The poor woman, who was in a hurry to get to the trauma room, had reluctantly agreed. When she had gone, Ducky had appeared, and the three of them had sat together, speaking very little, waiting for news. Various nurses had been sent in to the examination room over the next hour, in an attempt to get Abby up to a room, only to be rebuffed by an agitated Gibbs, and a stubborn Abby. Finally, an hour and a half later, the tired head doctor had come in to see them.

"We've done just about all we can for Det. DiNozzo at the moment. He's lost a lot of blood, and we're giving him more right now. He's sustained some rather worrisome bruising internally, in particular to his kidneys, although we don't see any signs of internal bleeding. His back and groin area are badly bruised as well. He's going to need surgery on his shoulder to repair some of the tendon and nerve damage done to him when he was stabbed, but we need to stabilize him further before that happens. We sutured the cut on his calf, which was really the least of his injuries. He's also dangerously dehydrated, and has a fever, which is probably caused by the shock, so we're also giving him fluids and antibiotics, to prevent any potential infection."

"Is he awake?" Abby asked.

"Not at the moment. He came around briefly, just long enough to give us consent for his treatment, but we have him heavily medicated now, and want to keep him that way until the surgery is done," the doctor answered.

"I want to see him," Abby demanded.

"We're going to move him up to surgery, shortly. One person will be able to stay with him after that, but everyone else will have to wait," the doctor informed her.

Abby had then suggested that they be put in the same room when Tony got out of surgery, an idea the doctor had refused to entertain. She tried batting her eyes and pleading, then, when both of those approaches failed, she'd thrown a temper tantrum of truly epic proportions, but to no avail. Finally, after several phone calls to the ward Tony would ultimately be moved to, it was arranged for her to have the room next door. As she was being wheeled up, she ordered, "Gibbs, Ducky will stay with me. You need to be the one with Tony. He can't wake up alone, not after everything he's been through."

Gibbs had wondered when she had become so bossy, and just what symptoms she was exhibiting that made the doctor say she was suffering from shock, since it seemed to him that she was totally alert. 'After all, she certainly isn't having any problems making her desires known,' he thought wryly. When it looked as though Gibbs might protest, Ducky had jumped in, offering his two cents. "Abby is quite right. Tony doesn't really know me, so it would be better if it was you. Besides, this will allow you to get his statement," he said, knowing that would provide Gibbs with an excuse for being there, since he suspected that Gibbs was having difficulties handling his attraction to Tony.

So, there he was, watching another night slip by, sitting alone in Tony's hospital room, while the younger man slept, hooked up to several machines and IVs. The doctor had told Gibbs that they were administering strong sedatives, otherwise Tony would be in a great deal of pain when he awoke. He warned him that Tony might not be terribly lucid when he woke up, due to the aftereffects of the sedatives. Gibbs was exhausted, and his eyes had been threatening to close for some time as he sat there in the dim light, when he realized that Tony was beginning to move around in the bed. Standing, he moved closer to the bed, and watched, as Tony's eyes slowly opened. Gibbs noticed that Tony didn't seem to be focusing well, as he looked about the room in obvious confusion.

"You're safe now," Gibbs supplied, causing the younger man to start, and look around for who was speaking. "It's me Tony, Gibbs," he said, when Tony's head turned in his direction. "We got you out of Jeffers' place, and you're now at Frederick County Memorial Hospital," Gibbs elaborated.

"Re….remember now," Tony managed to slur, although speech was hard, since his throat and mouth were dry, and he was having difficulty forming words. "Abby?" he asked.

"She's just fine," Gibbs assured him. "Matter of fact, she's asleep in the next room, said she didn't want to be too far away from you," he told him.

Tony smiled slightly when he heard that, and then a frown replaced the tiny grin, as something else occurred to him. "Will?" he asked, and when Gibbs hadn't answered immediately, he'd said, "Psycho Killer?"

It had taken Gibbs a minute to realize who Tony was referring to, as he'd only thought of the man as Jeffers. "He's dead. You got him," Gibbs said.

Tony's smile returned, and he said, "Good," right before his eyes closed again, and he slid back into sleep. Gibbs fell asleep soon after that, and it was only the ringing of his cell phone that woke him up. Fumbling around, he found it in the pocket of his sports coat.

Answering it, he heard, "Gibbs? It's Dawson. Think we finally have a lead for where Jeffers might have the girl and DiNozzo stashed."

'Oh shit!' Gibbs thought. 'I forgot all about him.' Gibbs had left Dawson and his men to go through Jeffers' creepy apartment and, with everything else that had happened, he'd completely forgotten about them.

"Hey Gibbs, did you hear me?" the man asked. He sounded excited, and Gibbs realized with just a tiny bit of chagrin, that would change when he found out what all had happened since last they'd spoken.

"Yeah, I heard you," Gibbs answered. "We already got them, Dawson, and Jeffers is dead. Tony managed to stab him through the heart."

"In a house in Frederick County?" Dawson asked.

"Yep," Gibbs confirmed.

"We found a record for its purchase in the bottom of a dresser drawer," Dawson said. "Would have been nice to know that you already knew about it. Would have saved us some work," he muttered.

That just served to piss Gibbs off. What Dawson had just said was illustrative of the problem. If Gibbs had informed him about finding out about the house, Dawson would probably have called off the search of the apartment. The man was beyond lazy. It also irritated Gibbs that he had yet to ask about how his detective was, so he said, "Oh, and Tony's going to be just fine. He was unconscious when we found him, having been severely beaten and stabbed, but they've had him in surgery to repair some of the damage, and he's resting now."

Dawson didn't seem to even catch the censure in Gibbs' voice, "Tell him I'm gonna need a report as soon as possible. The Chief'll be glad this is finally wrapped up, and that it was one of our guys that got him."

'One of our guys,' Gibbs repeated silently and bitterly. Tony had never been 'one of our guys' to Dawson, and his bumbling crew of incompetents. He'd been the butt of jokes, the person everyone shoveled unwanted work off onto, and Dawson's own personal whipping boy, but he had never been 'one of our guys.' That needed to change. Dawson could glom all the glory for Jeffers take down, but this was going to be the last time he had the opportunity to cash in on Tony's achievements. When the young detective was better, Gibbs was going to make sure he came to work for NCIS, and as to the rest, time would tell.

Tony woke briefly a couple of more times during the night, but had been too groggy to really carry on any type of a conversation, and Gibbs had caught up on his own sleep in short increments, his desire to be there for the young man keeping him from falling too deeply into slumber. Ducky stepped into the room at around six, Tuesday morning, not at all surprised to find Gibbs awake, and sitting in a chair, looking over the newspaper some thoughtful nurse had provided.

"How's our girl?" Gibbs asked his friend. He had checked on her periodically throughout the night, glad that she was only a room away, and had been relieved when he found her sleeping soundly.

"She's just fine," Ducky assured him. "The doctor's in with her right now, and I have every reason to believe he will release her later this morning. Her feet are going to be sore for some time, and she may have to wait a couple of weeks before she can resume wearing her preferred footwear, but all things considered, I'd have to say she's a very lucky young woman. How is our intrepid hero doing this morning?" Ducky said, as he crossed to the foot of Tony's bed, so he could look at the chart the nurses had stored there.

"Seems okay," Gibbs shrugged. "He hasn't really woken up all the way yet, so I don't really know how he's feeling. They kept him pretty drugged up overnight, but I could tell he was having some bad dreams, from the way he tossed and turned."

"Well, that's certainly to be expected, given everything he's been through. Abby made a few passing references to some of what had occurred last night as we talked, and it was quite horrific, although I must say I was impressed with his bravery," Ducky commented.

Gibbs just nodded. He didn't have the whole story yet, having been hesitant to press Abby last night, and Tony had been in no shape the few times he'd been awake to even consider asking him about the events that had taken place in the basement. But he remembered what he'd seen when they'd finally found Abby and Tony last night - Tony's naked and battered body, curled into a protective ball, and the blood that had been everywhere. He didn't need to know the whole story to understand that they'd been through hell, and he suspected that anything he could imagine wouldn't be nearly as bad as the truth was going to be. He'd screwed up his nerve at one point during the night to ask one particularly sympathetic nurse whether Tony had been raped or not, and had been inordinately pleased when she'd assured him that hadn't happened, but Tony hadn't been naked for no reason. Something bad had happened, and eventually it would have to be addressed.

"He's waking up again," Ducky alerted Gibbs, from his position by the bed.

Gibbs stood and watched, as Tony's eyes fluttered open.

"Welcome back, young man," Ducky said. "I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Ducky, the M.E. for NCIS, we met back in Baltimore. I've been staying with Abby, as she rested, but I just came over here to see how you were doing, and to offer you my thanks, for keeping Abby safe."

Tony was studying Ducky as he spoke, and he smiled when Ducky fell silent. "She's pretty special," he croaked out, acknowledging Ducky's thanks.

"She is indeed," Ducky agreed. "She will also be very relieved to know you're awake. I'll try to prevent her from charging in here directly, as she can be rather physically exuberant when she's happy," he laughed.

Tony's smile widened. He knew exactly what the older man was referring to, having been the recipient of Abby's hugs before. "Tell her I'm glad she's okay," he told Ducky. He'd spotted Gibbs standing a ways off while Ducky and he had been speaking. "I need to talk to Gibbs right now, then I'd love to see Abby."

"Of course, and you and I will get a chance to know one another better, later, as well," Ducky said, as he put the chart back on the hook at the foot of Tony's bed. As he turned to leave, he said in a quiet voice to Gibbs, "Go easy with him Jethro. I have a feeling he's going to find telling you about yesterday to be very difficult. Don't grill him."

"I know that, Ducky," Gibbs snapped, wondering why everyone always thought he had no sensitivity. "I just need some basic information right now; don't worry."

Ducky just patted him on the back as he passed him on his way out of the room.

"Hey," Tony said to Gibbs. "Were you here all night?" he asked in wonder.

"Yeah, didn't know who to call for you," Gibbs answered, "and I didn't want you to have to wake up alone."

"Isn't anyone to call. I'm like the Lone Ranger," Tony said with a false little smirk, and even though he was clearly not functioning well, Gibbs could see the guarded expression he often wore slip back in place. "Suppose Dawson's pissed. This is probably going to be the last straw with him," he sighed, as he sunk back into the pillows.

"Doesn't matter," Gibbs grunted, willing to drop the subject of who to contact for Tony for now, realizing it was a touchy subject for some reason. There'd be time to revisit that subject later.

"Easy for you to say," Tony said with a sigh. "I hate looking for new jobs."

"Plenty of places'll be glad to have you," Gibbs commented, wanting to say more but knowing that this wasn't the right time.

"We'll see," Tony said. "Suppose you need to know what all happened yesterday?" he asked Gibbs.

"Just what you're up to telling me right now," Gibbs answered.

"Want to get it over with," Tony said. "Time isn't going to change what happened." He proceeded to tell Gibbs everything that had occurred the day before. When he was through, Gibbs wasn't sure what to say.


	17. Chapter 17

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Seventeen**

Tony was watching Gibbs. He'd just finished his recitation of yesterday's events, then went silent, but remained alert. There was a hint of defiance on his face, and he was clearly waiting to see how Gibbs would react to what he'd just reported. Tony hadn't attempted to sugar coat anything, although he'd shown absolutely no emotion as he'd chronicled their time in the basement, and his voice had taken on a kind of flat, almost monotone quality, as if he was afraid to let inflection color his words.

Gibbs couldn't tell from Tony's delivery what he was thinking or feeling, but he sensed that how he responded would determine what happened between he and Tony in the future, both on a professional and a personal level. Jeffers' actions had made Gibbs' blood boil, and he'd had a hard time staying silent while Tony had narrated his report. He knew it was a good thing that the man was dead, or he would have been tempted to beat him to a pulp for what he'd put Tony and Abby, and those other poor people, through. He wished he knew what Tony wanted to hear. He didn't think he could offer up a bunch of platitudes - that just wasn't who he was, and he didn't think the young man wanted them anyway, but he was clearly waiting for something.

If Tony was going to work for him, there would be other times like this, Gibbs realized. Maybe not this traumatic or personal, but other times when emotions were high, when Tony was left feeling hurt and vulnerable, so he might as well handle this the way he'd handle it with one of his own agents. If that didn't work for Tony, then neither would NCIS. So instead of reassurances or expressions of his own anger, Gibbs gave him a small, half smile and simply said, "You did good, DiNozzo."

Tony looked at him, waiting to see if there was going to be more, and when it became obvious that Gibbs had said all he was going to say, he visibly relaxed. He'd been worried about how Gibbs would react. Would he see him as weak? Would Tony's actions disgust him? Would Gibbs see him as dirty, or damaged? Apparently not. He knew he'd get those reactions though, when Dawson arrived, but for now, he could just let it go. "So, Abby had to stay overnight?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Yep," Gibbs said. "Just as well. I don't think she'd have left anyway, not with you still here. This way she got some sleep, at least. You two seemed to have hit it off," he threw out there, not sure what Tony's feelings were for the young woman. He wouldn't blame Tony if he was attracted to her. Abby was pretty, in an exotic, rather dangerous way, and her heart was bigger than the entire state of Maryland. Extreme situations often pushed people together, and there was no denying that Tony and Abby had shared an extremely intense experience.

"It was kind of a bonding experience," Tony answered.

"Think it went beyond that," Gibbs observed. "She was like a mother lion with a cub when we got there."

Tony cringed internally a little at that description; it didn't make him sound very manly, but he knew it was probably pretty accurate. He remembered the quiet support she'd offered him when he was afraid he would crack into a thousand pieces at various times yesterday; knowing Abby was there, counting on him, had made the difference. "I really like her," he said, and Gibbs barely managed to keep from sighing. He was so busy telling himself it didn't matter, that he almost missed it when Tony added, "I can see how she could become just like someone's pesky little sister, sometimes annoying, but always worth protecting and loving."

Gibbs was still coming to terms with the relief he felt, when they were interrupted by an earsplitting shriek.

"Tony, you're awake!" Abby trilled, as she rushed into the room, her feet swathed in bandages, and wearing a set of scrubs. Gibbs didn't think he wanted to know how she'd gotten those, instead of the traditional hospital gown, figuring Ducky was probably trying to smooth over the fallout of yet another small tantrum, since he had not followed her into the room. "How are you feeling? Does your shoulder hurt too much? Are they taking good care of you? Giving you good drugs? Did you know they made me spend the night, but I had them give me the room next door to yours? Did you tell Gibbs how brave you were? That you saved us?" All of this was said in a rush of words, with no break for Tony to respond, and she was climbing up onto his bed as she talked. When she got herself positioned next to him, she looked over at Gibbs, and said with a stubborn expression on her face. "He's my own personal knight in shining armor now, Bossman, so we have to keep him. I know you are too, but you can't always be there, so we need Tony for the times when you're busy doing something else."

Tony was laughing, but he was also embarrassed by her praise. "Abby, shush," he begged.

"Nope, not going to happen. Gibbs needs to know how good you were. He had everything figured out, Gibbs. He knew just what to do. He's smarter than Liz, or any of those others that you've tried out over the last few months. Ducky and I have already talked about this, and we both think that he'd fit right in."

'Oh God, Ducky and Abby are teaming up,' Gibbs thought with a shudder, and he found himself wondering just what all they had discussed. Surely Ducky hadn't shared his suspicions with Abby. He'd never hear the end of it if that had happened, and Ducky knew that to be true.

"I've already got a job," Tony said, trying to get her to stop, totally mortified by her attempts at promoting him.

"That's just with some stupid old police department. Wouldn't you rather be a federal agent? It's much sexier," she told him. She was just getting ready to say more, when Dawson came thundering into the room.

"Heard you fucked up again, DiNozzo," he stated as he cleared the door. "This is your third time in the hospital in the last five months. HR is going to just love this, not to mention the additional paper work it creates."

Dawson's attitude was suddenly just too much for Gibbs. He'd managed to resist commenting on the man's boorish behavior up until then, but standing there, acting as if Tony had somehow asked for what had happened to him, was over the top. All of the repressed anger he'd been feeling for the last two days bubbled to the surface, and before he even had time to consider the ramifications of his actions, Gibbs hauled off and punched the man in the jaw.

Dawson was momentarily stunned, then he raised his arm to punch back, and was mid swing, when he was pulled backwards. Someone had a hold of the collar of his sports jacket, and had given it a yank. Spinning around he came face to face with the elderly little M.E. from NCIS.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Ducky told Dawson. "It won't end well for you."

Dawson shook the M.E.'s hand off him, and whirled back around to face Gibbs. "I'll have your badge for that," he threatened.

"You can try. Of course, I'm sure the press will be very interested in hearing about how you and your team managed to lose a murder suspect, even though you were supposed to have all the exits covered at the club you were staking out, and how you had a tracking device planted on your undercover cop, which was supposed to let you follow him, but that didn't work, since you didn't have someone monitoring the device. Think they might understand why someone punched you!" Gibbs was beyond furious. The ineptitude was bad enough, but when you added on the mean spiritedness and bullying, there was just no excuse. "You've got no right to talk to your detective like that. You might want to think about how it reflects on you if he's been hurt that many times. Where was his backup?"

Dawson fixed Gibbs with an angry glare, trying to decide if there was any way he could win this confrontation. He knew he couldn't let Gibbs talk to the press; that would lead to questions he didn't want to have to address, and his bosses would be angry over any negative attention it drew to the department. Finally, deciding his only choice was to ignore the federal agent, he turned to DiNozzo, the only person in the room he could take out his anger on.

"I want a full report on my desk by the end of the day, or you don't need to bother coming back, because you'll have been transferred out of Homicide. I don't care what you need to do to get it to me," he barked; then he turned to leave, unable to resist shouldering Gibbs out of his way as he passed by him.

"That's your boss? Why would you want that job???" Abby demanded of Tony, after Dawson had left.

"I didn't say it was a good job," Tony answered in a subdued voice.

"That does it!" Gibbs barked. "Abs, did the doctor check you out?"

When she shook her head he said, "Then get back to your room so he can. Duck, can you go with her?" Ducky agreed quickly, giving Gibbs a knowing smile, while Tony watched with wide eyes, not understanding what was going on.

He waited till they'd both left the room, not saying a word, then he turned to face Tony. "Abby's right," he said to the now nervous detective. "That isn't a job anyone should have to go back to. So, would you be interested in working at NCIS?"

Tony was more than interested. As a matter of fact, he had wanted it since he'd met the man, but this wasn't how he'd wanted to get a job offer. He didn't want an offer because Abby had pushed it, or because Gibbs felt sorry for him because his boss was an asshole. "This isn't necessary, Gibbs. Yeah, Dawson's a jerk, but I've dealt with lots of people who were worse than him over the years. You were right earlier; there's lots of places that would give me a job. You don't need to bail me out. I'm a big boy," he said, making sure one of his big, easy grins was firmly in place.

Gibbs shook his head. Tony was trying to play him again, hiding behind that smile, positive it would blind everyone to what was really going on behind his mask. "I wasn't trying to bail you out DiNozzo. As much as I love her, I didn't offer you a job just because Abby wants me to hire you. Even before all this happened, you impressed me with your detective work. I had always intended to offer you a job. But I can understand if you want to see what else is out there," he said honestly.

"No, if you're serious, then I accept!" Tony said, excited now, the smile on his face having transformed into a sincere one, making his eyes sparkle and flash, reminding Gibbs of the other reason he found the younger man so appealing.

"Good," Gibbs grunted, desperately needing to get out of there for a bit, not ready to address the other issue that stood between the two of them. "I'll send a nurse in with some paper and a pen. Get that report done, and I'll make sure it gets to Dawson by the end of the day. No point in giving him an excuse for putting a black mark on your record. Include a letter of resignation with it, while you're at it. Effective immediately."

"Where are you going?" Tony asked, confused by the sudden change in Gibbs.

"I'm going to find coffee," was Gibbs' response, as he left the room.


	18. Chapter 18

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Eighteen**

Tony had fallen back to sleep not long after Gibbs had left in search of coffee, despite his excitement over the prospects for his future. The combination of medication, pain and exhaustion from the previous day's events conspired against him to pull him back into slumber. The letter of resignation, and his written account of yesterday, sat in a pile on the table next to the bed, waiting for Gibbs to retrieve them. He slept peacefully for several hours, unencumbered by bad dreams. He slept through the doctor's visit, through Gibbs' and Ducky's various returns and subsequent departures, through a nurse changing his bandages, and through Abby climbing back into his bed and curling up beside him. When he finally woke up he experienced a sense of déjà vu when he found a pair of green eyes, inches away from his own, staring unblinkingly at him. "Abby, you've got to stop doing that to me. You scared the shit out of me!" he exclaimed, when he realized who was scrutinizing him so closely.

"I can't. I just need to keep looking at you for some reason. I think it reminds me that we're both okay," she told him in a soft voice.

Tony reached over with his left arm, and wrapped it around her shoulder, pulling her in close to his body. "We're both just fine, Abby, and that's how we're going to stay. Jeffers is dead, and isn't going to be able to hurt anyone ever again."

"I know that," she whispered into his shoulder. "But I can't always seem to believe it, though. I know that doesn't make any sense, and I get mad at myself, but…" her voice trailed off as words deserted her.

"It's okay, I get it," Tony assured her. "It'll get better over time, I promise. Just wait, you'll see. You know you can talk to me about it any time you want, don't you? There isn't any reason to be ashamed of being afraid; it's only natural."

"Are you afraid?" she asked.

"Not right now," he answered honestly. "But I'm sure I'm going to have my fair share of nightmares over it; that's what usually happens with me. But it does get better, promise, or maybe we just replace the old demons with new ones. That's just part of being human, I think," he told her, with a wry little grin.

Abby snuggled deeper into his side, and said quietly, "You're pretty smart for a boy. I think we're going to be best friends," she informed him, as she drew comfort from his presence, letting her eyes close, and her body relax.

Tony looked down at her already sleeping body. "I really hope so," Tony said quietly, as he let his head fall back and his eyes closed also.

Gibbs and Ducky looked at each other, as they stood on either side of the doorway leading into Tony's room. They had paused when they heard Abby and Tony starting to talk, and had stood there, unabashedly eavesdropping. Ducky gave a nod of his head, away from Tony's room, indicating that they shouldn't go in just then, and they both silently headed for the waiting room. When they got into the deserted room, Ducky looked over at Gibbs and commented, "That boy is special Jethro. You did the right thing by offering him a job. Now you just need to bite the bullet and take care of the other thing, too."

Gibbs didn't need to ask for clarification of 'the other thing.' He was all too aware of the fact that Ducky knew about his interest in Tony, and that he seemed to approve of it wholeheartedly. Gibbs wished he could be equally as sure about it. In a rare moment of weakness, he found himself expressing his feelings to his friend. "I'm not so sure about that Duck. It could be awkward, having him work under me everyday, having to pretend like there wasn't something going on between us. Maybe this thing with Abby will grow into something else. It'd just be easier on everyone. They won't work together out in the field, so Rule #12 wouldn't be an issue. Plus, Abby could use someone like him, and Tony wouldn't have to hide the fact he was seeing a man, who also happened to be his boss."

"Martyrdom does not become you Jethro," Ducky told him, a little anger seeping into his voice. "I've never known you not to go after something you want, so I do not see how this should be any different. As to Tony and Abby – that just isn't going to happen, and you'd know it, if you really thought about it. They've bonded as siblings, and nothing else is going to feel right to them. Do not cheapen what they went through by trying to change the results into something else, something that's more convenient for you. Maybe this thing with Tony won't work out in the long run, maybe it will be too difficult, but you'll never know if you don't at least give it a try."

"We'll see," Gibbs allowed. "I'm just going to let him get better for now, and then I'll see if he still seems interested in me."

"Kissing you on the dance floor wasn't proof enough for you?" Ducky challenged.

"How did…" Gibbs started to ask.

"Abby," Ducky supplied. "Apparently Jeffers took offense to it, and mentioned it as he was beating that poor naked young man to a pulp."

"Christ," Gibbs muttered, as he ran a shaking hand through his hair, the blunt reminder of what had happened to Tony, and the memory of that moment on the dance floor combining, leaving him feeling sapped and confused.

So Gibbs did what he always did when he needed to regain his balance; he focused all of his attention back onto his work. Completely dropping the subject they'd been discussing, he said, "I need to check on Liz and her team, and then call Tom again to get the ball rolling on hiring Tony. You find out when they're planning to release him. You and I need to go back to D.C. today, but we'll come back to get Tony when they're ready to let him go. Oh, and find a nearby hotel for Abby. I'm pretty sure she won't leave here until he does. We'll take her to a store to get her some stuff to tide her over, once you know how long Tony's likely to be in the hospital. I'll be back in an hour," he decreed, just before he escaped, leaving Ducky standing alone, shaking his head sadly. 'Well, I've done my part, Abby,' Ducky thought. 'Now it's up to you to do yours.'

With nothing else to do, Ducky went off in search of Tony's doctor, who told him that they wanted to keep Tony for at least two more days, to make sure the shoulder was healing properly and that no secondary infections set in. They also wanted to monitor his kidneys, making sure they were functioning properly, after the trauma they'd experienced from the multiple kicks. "If all goes well, he should be released late Friday afternoon," the man assured Ducky.

"When will he be ready to report for work, do you think?" Ducky asked, knowing Gibbs was sure to want to know that piece of information.

"If everything heals properly, two weeks for light duty and four weeks until he's completely healed, provided he doesn't tax the shoulder in the meantime. I don't know if he's going to need physical therapy or not. We'll have a better sense of that in about a week," the doctor told Ducky.

Ducky thanked the man, and went back to Tony's room, where he found both of the young people still fast asleep. Gently shaking Abby's shoulder to wake her, he told her about Gibbs' intention to head back to Washington.

"We can't just leave Tony here, by himself," Abby declared loudly, inadvertently waking Tony.

"S'okay," Tony slurred, before Ducky could get a word in edgewise. "I'll be fine."

"We have no intention of leaving you alone," Ducky informed him. "Gibbs suggested we get you a hotel room nearby, Abigail, so you can keep Tony company. The doctor said he'd be released in a couple of days, and Gibbs will come and fetch you both when that happens," he quickly reassured Abby, before she had a chance to work herself up into a lather over the idea of abandoning Tony.

"That works for me," Abby nodded in agreement, relieved that she wasn't going to have to argue with them to let her stay. She was more than capable of making sure she got her way, but wheedling and plotting were taxing, and she didn't really feel up to it at the moment.

"Abby, you really don't need…" Tony began, but he stopped cold, when she turned an icy glare in his direction.

"Wise man," Ducky observed. "It's usually better just to go along with Abby, whenever possible. It makes life easier. You'd do well to remember that," he advised, causing Tony to chuckle, and Abby to look affronted.

Gibbs came back just long enough to make sure everything was fine, collect Ducky and Abby, get Abby everything she needed at the store, checked in at the hotel, and deposited back at the hospital, so that she could spend the rest of the day with Tony. Then, after having Ducky give Abby his cell phone, and peeling three hundred dollars out of his wallet so that Abby had money for taxis, food and miscellaneous other things, Gibbs and Ducky headed back to Washington to wrap up all the loose ends of the case, leaving Tony and Abby to their own devices.

The next two days seemed to speed by for Gibbs. Liz and the team of agents working with her had found trace evidence of the other four victims in Jeffers' car, so although the man would never be tried and convicted, at least the families of the victims had some closure, knowing exactly who was responsible for their loved ones' deaths, and that he was now dead. Dawson, who had become so snippy and difficult to live with since receiving Tony's resignation, and subsequently learning that Gibbs had hired him, that even his own men were avoiding him, had left Gibbs the unenviable task of talking to the families. He had no problem, however, greedily assumed all credit for the resolution of Jeffers' murder spree publicly.

Liz was furious when she heard that Gibbs had recruited and hired Tony, and after storming around the bullpen for a day, she finally threatened to move back to the FBI. Gibbs had refused to be bullied, and had called her bluff, wishing her the best of luck, which left her with little choice but to carry through on her threat, making her last day the same as Tony's first day. Gibbs thought there was a satisfying kind of symmetry to that development.

A mountain of paperwork was faxed to the Frederick hospital for Tony to fill out, all of it necessary to begin the process of officially hiring him, and Abby and Tony spent most of their time visiting quietly while he worked his way through the stack. They talked a little about anything and everything, slowly getting to really know each other. They discovered their taste in movies was very similar, and Tony surprised Abby when he revealed that he was a closet reader, and they ended up spending the better part of Thursday afternoon talking about their favorite books. Abby told Tony all about her family, but couldn't seem to get him to tell her much about his, other than that they were your typical, boring New York suburban family. She did learn he was an only child and that he'd gone to a military boarding school, and he entertained her with a few stories of his misdeeds as a teenager, but he didn't share anything really substantive about his youth. All in all, it turned out to be just what they needed. They developed a sixth sense about when the other was dwelling too much on what had happened, and learned just what to say to make them laugh, so that by the time Friday rolled around, they both felt better and were more than ready to leave.

Early that morning the attending doctor told them that Tony could leave later that afternoon, once the surgeon had been in to check on his progress. Abby had called Gibbs to let him know, and Gibbs promised to be there by three. While Tony was eating his breakfast, Abby decided that this would be her last chance to address what she was privately calling 'the Gibbs situation,' a topic Tony had skillfully avoided every time she'd tried to delicately broach it over the last two days. Vowing not to allow him to change the subject this time, she waited until his mouth was full of toast and egg, and then started in, throwing out all attempts at subtlety. "So, Gibbs kissed you at the club," she said, causing him to choke on his food. "I think that's awesome. Most people wouldn't think someone as macho as Gibbs could be attracted to a guy. Of course, you looked beyond hot in those leather pants, so maybe it's just you he's into."

By that time Tony had managed to swallow his food and resigned himself to having this conversation. He'd secretly hoped that she had been too distracted to register what Jeffers had said, but he supposed he should have known better, very little seemed to slip by Abby. "I'm not so sure about that Abby. He certainly hasn't done anything since then to suggest that he's interested. If anything, he seems to want to avoid being alone with me," he told her, giving voice to the worry that had been quietly eating at him for the last two days.

"That's not true, Tony. He spent all Tuesday night with you," Abby objected.

"Yeah, while I was asleep," Tony pointed out. "On Wednesday, he couldn't get back to D.C. fast enough. I think he regrets what happened, and doesn't know how to tell me."

"And I think that you're wrong. Gibbs doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do. He just hasn't been good at the whole relationship thing before, and I'm pretty sure it's because he has trouble saying what he's feeling. He's more of an actions instead of words kind of guy. I can tell he likes you. He wouldn't have punched your boss if he didn't care," she asserted.

"Abby, everyone who meets Dawson wants to punch him," Tony said, not willing to accept that as proof of Gibbs' affection.

"He went all night without coffee so he could be there for you on Tuesday. You don't understand how significant that is. Usually Gibbs can barely go an hour without having a cup of coffee. And I saw how he looked at you, when he didn't think anyone else was looking. He is most definitely into you," she said smugly, feeling like those two points were irrefutable.

"We'll see," Tony said noncommittally, wishing she would just drop the subject. He didn't want to think about how much he liked Gibbs; it would hurt too much when the man rejected him.

"Of course, now that he's hired you, he may be worried about Rule #12," Abby mused quietly, talking more to herself than Tony.

As much as Tony wanted to end the conversation, he couldn't resist asking, "Rule #12?"

"Yeah, Rule #12 – Never date a co-worker. Gibbs has a whole set of rules that you'll learn over time. They're not written down anywhere, and sometimes I think he makes them up as he goes along, depending on what's happening," she explained.

"Well, that pretty much cinches it then, doesn't it?" Tony asked, as his stomach tightened a little with disappointment.

"Nah," Abby said. "It might make it a little harder, but Gibbs also ignores rules all the time. He's always making the Director crazy because he'd gone and done exactly what he wanted, even though it goes against NCIS protocol, and he doesn't think twice about asking me to break a rule if it gets him what he wants faster. He just may need some prodding, that's all. I could do that for you, if you want me to," she offered eagerly.

"No!" Tony said loudly, almost knocking over his breakfast tray as he reached out to grab her hand in horror. He remembered how she had badgered Gibbs to hire him. The last thing he wanted was for her to start playing matchmaker. "I don't want him to know we've talked about this. Promise me you won't say anything to him Abby. Please."

"Only if you promise me that you will," she said stubbornly.

"Okay, I promise," Tony agreed rapidly.

"Pinky swear!" Abby demanded, holding up her hand, and glaring at him.

"Pinky swear," Tony repeated, as he linked his pinky with hers.

"Done!" Abby announced triumphantly, and let the subject drop.

By the time Gibbs got to the hospital at 2:45, Tony had been released. Gibbs found them sitting outside the hospital, Tony in a wheelchair and Abby on a bench, waiting for him. "Ready to get out of here?" he asked, as he approached them.

"Gibbs," Abby cried, and hobbled over to him as fast as her bandaged feet would allow. She threw her arms around him and hugged tightly. "Get us out of here. We're both about ready to go crazy."

Gibbs waved at Tony and then asked Abby, "Don't you need to check out of your hotel room?"

Abby looked at him somewhat abashedly. "Actually, I did that on Wednesday, after you and Ducky left. I just didn't want to stay there by myself. The nurses have been letting me sleep on a cot in the doctor's lounge, since they somehow got the idea that I didn't have anywhere to stay, and I've been using the shower in Tony's room," she admitted.

Gibbs sighed. 'I should have seen that coming,' he chided himself. "What about the stuff we bought at the store?" he asked.

Abby pointed to a garbage bag on the ground next to Tony's wheelchair. "It's all in there," she told him. "So, can we go now?"

When Gibbs tried to push Tony, he argued that he was perfectly capable of walking to the car, so Gibbs rolled the wheelchair back into the hospital, while Abby and Tony got settled. Abby had insisted that Tony sit in the front with Gibbs, claiming she was more used to his driving and that Tony would be less likely to get car sick if he was up front. Having ridden with Gibbs in Baltimore, Tony didn't argue. They rode in companionable silence for several minutes, and then Abby piped up again. "Are you off the rest of the day?" she asked Gibbs innocently.

"Yep," he told her with a smile. "No new cases right now, so Morrow said to make it a long weekend."

"That's great," Abby beamed. "How are you holding up, Tony? Are you getting tired?"

"I'm doing great," he told her. "All I've done for the last two days is lie around. You know that. I was ready to kill for a change of scenery."

"That's what I thought," Abby said, and before she even continued, Gibbs realized they'd just been set up. "In that case, I think you should take me home first Gibbs, and then go over to the Naval Yard and show Tony around. He hasn't even seen where he's going to be working. If he's going to start in a week, he's also going to need to start looking for an apartment, so it'd be better if he knows what the area is like, so maybe you could show him around that, too."

"That's okay, Abby. Gibbs probably doesn't want to be a tour guide," Tony said at the same time Gibbs said, "I could do that."

"Great!" Abby exclaimed, totally ignoring what Tony said. "That's settled then." She then proceeded to babble nonstop the whole way back to Washington.

When Gibbs pulled up in front of her apartment he said, "I've got your purse in the trunk, Abs. The Baltimore Police found it in the parking lot, and your keys were still in it. Let me get it out, and then I'll carry your bag up for you."

"You don't need to," Abby protested. "It doesn't weigh much, and I want to stop off on the first floor and visit with Mrs. Morelli before I go up, anyway. I haven't seen her since Saturday, and I've been worried about her," she said, referring to an elderly lady she made a habit of checking up on regularly.

"You sure?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes, I'm sure. You go ahead and take Tony over to NCIS. Make sure you show him where my lab is, so he'll know how to come down and visit with me when he starts. Show him where to buy Caf-Pows too. I've had to make do with Mountain Dew for the last couple of day, so it may take me a month to get my caffeine levels straightened out," she said, as she opened the car door and grabbed the trash bag.

"Caf-Pows?" Tony asked.

"I'll explain it to you later," Gibbs said, as he climbed out and headed back to the trunk to retrieve the purse.

Abby took the purse from him, and then whispered, "Don't blow this, Bossman." She didn't give him a chance to reply. Instead, she turned on her heels and walked over to Tony's side of the car. He had gotten out while she and Gibbs were by the trunk, and was leaning on the side of the car, waiting to say goodbye to her. Abby caught him a bear hug, and just held on for several moments. Finally she released him and said, "I'm going to miss you. Call me over the weekend, and I'll help you look for a new place."

Tony promised that he would, and told her that he'd miss her, too. When he said that, Abby pulled him in for one last hug. Right before she let him go, she lifted her head and said, "Remember, you pinky swore. Don't let me down." Then she kissed his cheek and let him go.

In the end, Gibbs insisted she let him carry her bag as far as Mrs. Morelli's apartment, and so Tony was left by the car, contemplating what, if anything, he was going to say to Gibbs. When the man who was soon to be his boss returned, they both got back into the car.

"So, the Naval Yard?" Tony said, just to have something to say.

"Yep," Gibbs agreed, as he restarted the car. "Need to stop for coffee on the way, if that's okay with you?" he said.

"Of course," Tony assured him. "I could use some myself," he said, glad for the distraction that would provide.

They stopped at a Starbucks and got drinks to go, then Gibbs pointed out some things in the area as they drove towards Headquarters. He even entertained Tony by explaining Abby's addiction to the heavily caffeinated drinks called Caf-Pows. Everything seemed so normal between them, that Tony began to relax, thinking maybe he'd have some time before he had to deal with his feelings for Gibbs. They made it all the way to the Yard, through the Bullpen, where Gibbs introduced Tony to the few people that were left there late on a Friday afternoon, and down to see Abby's lab and the morgue, without any noticeable tension. On the drive to Baltimore Tony asked questions about the job, which Gibbs easily answered. By the time they pulled up in front of Tony's apartment, and Gibbs surprised Tony by telling him that he and Ducky had gotten his car back to his garage while he'd been in the hospital, Tony had almost convinced himself that it would be just fine if Gibbs wasn't really interested in him. Which explains why he wasn't prepared for when Gibbs turned off the car, rotated in his seat to face Tony and asked, "So, just what did you pinky swear to Abby, Tony?"


	19. Chapter 19

_**A/N: This was intended to be the last chapter of this story, but after a bit of pleading from Marianne, the world's most hard working Beta, I've agreed to one more, just so we can see Liz's reaction to Tony.**_

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Nineteen**

'Just what did you pinky swear to Abby, Tony?' Gibbs' question echoed in Tony's head, as he worked hard to resist the urge to flee from the car. What in the hell was he going to say?

_'Oh, nothing much, I just promised her that I'd tell you that I wanted to jump your bones.'  
_  
Or:

_'I promised her that I'd let you know that I get hard just thinking about you wearing my jeans.'  
_  
Or, better yet:

_'She made me pinky swear that I'd invite you up to my apartment, and drag you into the bedroom, where I'd lie down and spread my legs for you.'  
_  
Of course, he didn't say any of those things to Gibbs. Instead, he plastered on one of his patented, Tony DiNozzo grins, and said, "Oh, nothing big. I just promised her I'd thank you for hiring me, and let you know the surgeon said I could attend the training sessions at FLETC (Federal Law Enforcement Training Center) that start next month, as long as my shoulder keeps healing as fast as it is has been."

That was a bald-faced lie, and Gibbs knew it; not what the doctor said, no – that was probably the truth. The lie was in what he'd promised Abby. Gibbs doubted if Abby had even stopped to consider the fact that Tony would need to go through FLETC before he could be anything but a trainee at NCIS. Apparently Tony already had a firm grasp of Rule #7 – always be specific when you lie. Too bad for Tony, he was already learning to read Tony's expressions. He wasn't buying that shit-eating grin anymore; one of the first things Gibbs had learned was the bigger Tony smiled, the bigger the fib he was telling. Gibbs suspected the truth had something to do with what Ducky and Abby seemed to have teamed together to make happen. He'd seen the sideways looks Tony had been throwing his way all afternoon; he'd seen them while he was busy looking at Tony with his own oblique glances. It was also clear to Gibbs that he and Tony were equally uncomfortable with the situation. 'Was he having second thoughts about what they'd said and done at the club? Had it just been the heat of the moment, and the adrenaline caused by the situation? Did he just want to ignore the whole thing?' Gibbs wished he knew the answers to those questions.

Tony interrupted his thoughts when he said, "Well, thanks for everything Gibbs, especially bringing my car back, and giving me the job. Guess I'll be talking to you sometime next week," as he opened the car door to get out.

Gibbs managed to grunt out a, "You're welcome," just before the door shut, and he saw Tony hurrying towards the entrance to his apartment. Gibbs sat and watched Tony disappear into the building, then released the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, as he turned the car back on, and pulled back out onto the street. Mentally chastising himself for cowardice, he headed back towards D.C.

Tony didn't register on much as he shot up the stairs that led to his apartment, other than his need to be clear of Gibbs. It wasn't until he was standing in front of his door, and he'd reached into the pocket of the jeans Abby had bought for him when she'd gone to get him something to wear at the Penney's store next to the hospital, that he realized he didn't have a way in. Gibbs hadn't given him his keys, and he'd been in such a hurry to escape, he'd forgotten to ask for them. 'Perfect! This is just perfect. Now I'm a coward and a fool,' he told himself, as he leaned his back against the door and slid down. When his butt touched the ground, he rested his head on his knees and wrapped his good arm around his legs. Hopefully Juan, his super, would be home and could come unlock his door, Tony thought, but made no effort to move. The day was beginning to take its toll on him, and it felt good just to huddle there, giving his body a chance to rest.

Gibbs had just pulled onto the highway when his cell phone began to ring. It was Abby.

"Gibbs, where are you?" she asked without preamble.

"Just pulled onto 95. Headed back," he answered.

"How's Tony?" she asked.

"Seemed fine," he answered.

"Did you and he…" she started.

"Abs, is this important? It's been a long day, and I just want to get home," he snapped her.

"No, I was just wondering if…." she tried again.

"Then I'll see you on Monday," he said tersely, as he hung up.

Abby stood in her living room, listening to the dial tone blare out of the receiver she held in her hand. He'd hung up on her! And she could tell he and Tony hadn't talked – not if he was already on his way back to the city. 'This won't do,' she thought, as she dragged out her address book to look up a number, which she proceeded to punch into her phone.

"Ducky? It's Abby. Gibbs just hung up on me, and he's as mean as a bearcat. I don't think he and Tony talked about a damned thing. You need to call him, right now!" she commanded.

"Oh dear," Ducky said. "I was afraid of this. I have a feeling that they are both equally as pigheaded. Let me see what I can do, Abby."

"I hope you have better luck than me," Abby said, wishing him well.

After she'd hung up with Ducky, Abby pulled a small slip of paper out of the bag she'd brought home with her from the hospital. Crossing back over to the phone, she dialed another number.

Tony could hear the phone ringing in his apartment, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He still hadn't worked up enough energy to walk down to the first floor, in search of Juan. He was confused and tired, and it felt good just to sit there, working hard at thinking about nothing. After about twelve rings, the phone stopped. Tony's last coherent thought, before he drifted off into sleep was, 'Guess I forgot to switch on the answering machine.'

Gibbs wasn't surprised when his phone began to ring again. Lifting it up, he looked at the screen. 'Ducky,' he thought, when he saw the number displayed. It certainly hadn't taken long for Abby to call in reinforcements. "I can't deal with this right now," he told the still ringing phone, as he tossed it over onto the passenger seat, ignoring its insistent blaring. What he really needed was coffee, and he pulled his car into the far left lane so he could take the next exit, ignoring the honks of his fellow travelers. Gibbs pulled into the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot, and got out, intending to get himself a cup of coffee and treat himself to a donut, a luxury he rarely allowed himself to indulge in. When he reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet, he felt something else there he couldn't identify. Pulling out the foreign object, he realized he was looking at Tony's leather key holder. He'd forgotten to give Tony his  
keys back. 'Perfect! This was just perfect.' Now he'd have to go back to Baltimore. He couldn't leave Tony stranded all weekend, with no way to drive his car. After getting the coffee, and forgoing the donut, since he was no longer hungry, he got back in his car, this time heading back the way he'd just come.

Gibbs slowly climbed the stairs that led to the second floor in Tony's apartment building. He was just going to give Tony the keys, and get the hell out of there. He'd have close to two weeks to get his head on straight, before he had to spend any real time with the younger man. 'Surely that will be enough time,' he thought. Unfortunately, all thoughts like that flew out of his head when he got to the top of the stairs and saw Tony curled up in a tight ball, on the floor in front of his apartment door.

"Tony!" he exclaimed. 'Had his shoulder opened back up? Was he bleeding again? Had he collapsed? Been mugged?' All of those ideas rushed through Gibbs' head, as he ran down the hallway. When he got to where Tony sat, his body hunched over his knees, Gibbs reached out and ran his fingers through Tony's hair, intending to tilt his head up, so he could see Tony's face better. "Tony?" he said softly.

"Wh…what?" Tony stuttered, as his eyes opened. "Gibbs? What…. what are you doing here?" he managed to ask, as his brain tried to catch up with his body. He was momentarily confused as to why he was on the floor, but then he remembered that he'd been locked out of his apartment, and that he'd sat down to rest for just a bit. He must have fallen asleep.

"Are you okay? Did something happen?" Gibbs asked, unaware that he hadn't taken his hand out of Tony's hair and that he was absentmindedly cording his fingers through it, as he studied the younger man's face for signs of pain.

"No, I'm okay," Tony said, as he felt what Gibbs' fingers were doing; it felt so good he was loath to say anything that would stop it. "I'm locked out, and just fell asleep as I thought about what to do," he admitted.

That reminded Gibbs of why he was there. Quickly pulling his hand back when he suddenly realized that he was petting Tony's head, he stood and said, "That's why I came back. I realized I'd forgotten to give you your keys. Need a hand up?" he asked, trying to sound casual, and failing spectacularly.

Tony felt a momentary pang of regret. For an instant, as he'd savored the feel of Gibbs' hand in his hair, he'd hoped that something else had brought Gibbs back. "No, that's okay. I'm fine," he said, as he struggled to his feet, wincing slightly as he bumped his right shoulder into the door.

Gibbs, who had been watching Tony carefully, saw him cringe when he stumbled against the closed door, said, "I think fine is a relative term, Tony. Show me which key it is, and I'll unlock the door." He pulled out the leather holder and opened it, so that Tony could indicate which key to use.

After getting the door open, and waiting for Tony to enter, Gibbs surprised himself when he followed Tony in. He was still trying to figure out how to explain that, when Tony turned to him and asked, "Would you like some coffee? I could use some myself."

"That'd be good," Gibbs mumbled, as he shifted from one foot to the other, feeling like a schoolboy in the principle's office, and not liking the sensation at all.

"Pull up a chair," Tony said, waving his arm towards the futon and director's chairs that constituted his living room furniture, as he went over to the small kitchenette area that sat on the far wall in the main room. Reaching into the freezer section of his refrigerator, he pulled out a bag of coffee.

"The freezer?" Gibbs asked, as he watched from where he still stood, having been unable to make himself move yet.

"Yeah," Tony answered with a small laugh. "I don't spend a lot of time here, and it takes me forever to go through a whole bag of coffee, so if I don't keep it in the freezer, it goes stale," he explained, as he measured out some grounds into the filter of his coffee maker.

Gibbs grunted in reply, as he walked into the sitting area, and lowered himself onto the futon, which he found to be astonishingly comfortable. He said as much to Tony.

"Yeah, doesn't look like much, but it gets the job done," Tony said from the kitchen, where he'd just got done pouring in the water. 'Damn, this is awkward,' he thought privately, as he glanced over at Gibbs, and wondered where he should sit when he went into the living room. That night at the club hung over the room, like a giant pink elephant, and Tony was having a hard time believing it had only been four days ago. It felt as if this had sat, unresolved, between the two of them forever, which was almost amusing, when he considered that four days was also how long they'd known each other. 'Something's got to give,' he told himself. 'I can't work with this man, day after day, if things stay like this. Even if he rejects me, it can't be worse than this.' He steeled himself, as he crossed to the other end of the futon. "It's brewing. Shouldn't be long now," he told Gibbs as he sat down.

Gibbs watched Tony as he eased himself onto the futon. "You must be hungry," he said, more for something to say, than a real desire to eat.

"I could eat something," Tony answered. "There's a pretty good Chinese place nearby that delivers. I've got an account with them, since they're over here at least three times a week. Do you want to stay and order something?" he asked, thinking that waiting for the food would give him a short reprieve.

"Sure," Gibbs said.

"Same as last time? We never got to finish lunch on Monday," he reminded Gibbs.

"That'll work," Gibbs agreed, and watched as Tony went to the phone and dialed the number from memory.

After the food had been ordered, Tony got the coffee, doctoring his with copious amounts of sugar and cream, and serving Gibbs his black. The room got silent again, as they sipped on their drinks, while they sat on the futon, neither one knowing what to say, or wanting to be the first to speak. It wasn't as if they were afraid they would shock the other, the sexual tension in the room was so thick, they were both hyperaware of each other.

"Want to watch a movie while we're waiting?" Tony asked, and gave himself an imaginary kick for being inane.

"What do you have?" Gibbs asked, knowing he wasn't likely to recognize any title Tony supplied, but glad for something to focus on.

Tony rose again, and went to the makeshift bookcases he'd created out of wood and milk crates. Sitting down on the floor in front of it, he began to thumb through his tapes, calling out titles and offering brief plot summaries, waiting for Gibbs to chose one. Gibbs had turned on the futon, so he could watch Tony; mesmerized by the way he looked as he discussed the pros and cons of the various choices, and remembering what his hair had felt like as he'd slid his fingers through it earlier. It wasn't until Tony looked up at him, an expectant expression on his face, that Gibbs realized Tony must have asked him a question. "Huh?" he said, blinking as he snapped out of his trance.

"I asked if you were a _Star Wars_ or a _Star Trek_ guy. Most people tend to only like one or the other. I figured you'd be a _Star Trek_ person, kind of old school, you know?" Tony said, looking at Gibbs with a funny expression.

"Never saw either of them," Gibbs managed to answer. "Don't get to the movies often, and my television only gets two channels." Clearly his answer bordered on blasphemy, because Tony was now looking at him as if he'd grown a third eye. 'At least that was better than before,' Gibbs thought to himself. Before Tony's looks had almost burned his skin, and Gibbs had been all too aware of his body's involuntary response to the smolder.

"How about we try _Star Trek_? I have the first season here, and we can watch an episode and you can see if you like it," Tony volunteered, holding up a well worn VCR tape.

"Sure," Gibbs answered, shifting slightly, as he tried to make himself more comfortable, ordering his body to behave.

Tony had just gotten the television and VCR set up when there was knock on the door. Punching the play button he said, "You start watching while I deal with the food. I've seen this a million times, so it's not like I'll miss something."

Gibbs focused on the television, hoping it would help take his mind off his growing need to touch Tony again. He was trying to figure out what was going on, and why there was an elf lord on the space ship, when he heard a thud and a crash, followed by Tony loudly cursing, "Shit!" He jumped up and crossed the room, and found Tony standing in the kitchenette, clutching a plate to his hip with his left arm, his hand holding the bag of food which had a greasy hole in its bottom, with his left knee lifted up to prevent another carton of food from slipping out. At his feet lay the container of rice, half of its contents spilled on the floor, and a broken plate.

"Sorry, it was harder than I thought to get all this with only one good arm," Tony apologized, as he looked down at the mess in disgust.

Gibbs felt like a fool. He'd completely forgotten about Tony's shoulder and the limited use of his right arm that the wound had caused. "No reason to apologize," he said, as he reached out to grab the food bag. "I should have come in to help," he said, as he set it down on the counter next to him. He then reached for the plate that had been precariously pressed to Tony's body, his hand landing on top of Tony's, as he too sought to save the plate. Tony looked into his face when Gibbs' hand closed around his, and the plate crashed to the ground, landing on a pile of rice.

Gibbs let go of Tony's hand, and started to bend over to pick up the pieces. Tony grabbed his hand, saying, "Leave it." His voice was thick and barely louder than a whisper. Gibbs straightened back up, his eyes latching on to Tony's. Tony's eyes were black, his pupils having dilated to the point that the green of his irises had been completely obscured.

"No more fucking around," Gibbs growled, as he reached out and wrapped his hand around the back of Tony's neck, pulled him closer, and covered his mouth with his own. Tony melted into the kiss, pressing his body into Gibbs' and opening his mouth to allow Gibbs deeper access. Gibbs didn't need a second invitation, as his tongue explored every crevice in Tony's mouth. They were both panting by the time their lips separated, the need for air the only reason they'd stopped. Tony had his good arm wrapped around Gibbs' waist, and Gibbs' hands were resting on either side of Tony's face, holding it firmly in place.

"Don't want to stop," Tony managed to say.

"I don't want to hurt your shoulder," Gibbs answered, although he couldn't resist tilting his head and running his tongue along the outside of Tony's lips as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

"Let's take it to the bedroom, we can be more careful there," Tony said, even as Gibbs continued to explore his face with his tongue, which was now tracing along the edge of Tony's jaw. One of Gibbs' hands had slid back into Tony's hair so his mouth could better explore Tony's jaw and neck. Tony arched his head up to give Gibbs better access, as he began to nibble his way down Tony's neck.

Tony's breathing was coming in loud stutters now, and the one small part of Gibbs' brain that was still functioning, realized how awkward this position must be for Tony. "Bedroom," he said.

Tony didn't answer, he just reached up and grabbed Gibbs' hand that was still resting on his face and pulled. "This way," he croaked, as he led the way to his room.

When they got there Gibbs looked around at the room briefly, spotting the bed, which was just a mattress and box springs on a simple metal frame, covered in a navy blue down filled comforter. Taking the lead again, he kissed Tony, and with his arms wrapped around Tony's waist, he backed the younger man across the room, until his knees were pressed against the edge of the bed. When he released Tony's mouth, Tony sank down onto the bed and scooted back, until he was able to swing his legs up onto the mattress and allow his head to sink into a pile of pillows. Gibbs followed him down and straddled Tony's legs as he bent down to kiss him again. Tony reached up, pulling Gibbs' body down closer, so that he could run his hand across Gibbs' chest. Gibbs moaned, as Tony's hand brushed over his nipples, and he lifted his head from Tony's mouth and resumed his assault on Tony's neck. Eventually, frustrated with the barrier Tony's shirt was providing, Gibbs pulled away from Tony's grasp, and sat up so that he could unbutton the front of Tony's shirt. As the shirt fell away, and Gibbs saw the bandages on Tony's shoulder, and the bruises across the lower part of his stomach, he froze. 'What in the hell am I doing?' he asked himself. Tony needed to be in bed, but to sleep, not to make love. He immediately rolled off of Tony, and sat up, rubbing a hand through his hair.

Tony made a needy little mewing sound when Gibbs moved away, and opened up the eyes he had let close. "What's wrong?" he asked, as he struggled to sit up.

"We shouldn't be doing this. You just got out of the hospital; what you need is sleep," Gibbs told him.

"No, what I need is what I've wanted since Monday night," Tony said.

"You're black and blue and held together with bandages," Gibbs pointed out.

"I know it looks ugly," Tony said, "but it's just temporary, and besides the shoulder, the rest doesn't really hurt anymore."

"I don't care what it looks like Tony. That's not the problem. What you need right now is…."

But Tony cut him off before he could say anymore. "I _need this_ Gibbs. I _need_ a reminder of what sex is supposed to be. I _need_ you to wipe all traces of Jeffers off of my body. I _need_ you to make me feel good about myself again. I _need_ you to make me stop thinking about the things he said, and just give in to sensation. _Those_ are the things I _need_," Tony said fiercely. "You can't hurt me. That's already been done, and I'm over it now. All you could possibly do is make me feel better." Tony was panting by the time he was through. Until he had started talking, he hadn't even realized he was feeling those things. He'd worked so hard at pushing away what had happened to him, that he'd never given himself time to examine the emotional fallout. But now that he'd given it voice, he knew that everything he'd said was true.

Gibbs must have seen that too, because he didn't bother to answer. He just reached over, and gently pushed Tony back down onto the bed, and covered his body with his own, being careful not to put any real weight on Tony's right shoulder. Latching his mouth onto one of Tony's nipples, he suckled it; occasionally nipping it gently with his teeth, until it was painfully erect, then he moved over to the other and repeated the process. When Tony was moaning softly, Gibbs began a downward journey, licking and nibbling as he worked his way lower. He stopped when he got to Tony's navel, and swirled his tongue round and round the dent in Tony's body, finally thrusting his tongue in and out, until Tony's pelvis was matching his rhythm. Then he eased himself off Tony, and crawled down his body until he got to Tony's feet. Reaching out, he pulled the tennis shoes Tony was wearing off, and then removed his socks. Sliding back up Tony's body, he licked his way all along his stomach, his tongue just above where the waistband of Tony's jeans sat. Then he unbuttoned the pants and slid the zipper down. Tony lifted his hips to help, and Gibbs pulled Tony's pants and boxers off in one continuous motion. Tony moaned when his cock, erect and swollen, slapped against his stomach as it was freed from its restraint. Gibbs leaned down again, and using his teeth and tongue, worked his way up Tony's leg, starting at the ankle, until his mouth rested against Tony's balls. Then, without warning, he opened his mouth and drew one in, sucking and swirling it in his mouth, as Tony screamed out in pleasure.

By the time he'd moved on to the other one, Tony had started to chant "Oh God, Oh God," repeatedly, like a mantra. Gibbs lifted his head up a little, so that he could see Tony's face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes closed. Little beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and his hair was curling around the sides of his neck from the perspiration. His natural good looks had transcended into true beauty, and it almost took Gibbs' breath away. He must have sensed Gibbs looking at him, for his eyes fluttered open and locked onto Gibbs, and he smiled, a smile that was sweet and sensual and completely honest. Gibbs returned the smile, then he bent back down, and kissed the tip of Tony's leaking penis, just before he completely engulfed it in his mouth. Tony couldn't help himself. He thrust into Gibbs' mouth, pushing his cock all the way to the back of his throat, and Gibbs just relaxed and let it glide back. Then, before Tony could continue, he reached up and gingerly held his hips, mindful of the bruising, as he began to work his mouth up and down Tony's shaft, swirling his tongue and sucking gently. At first Tony offered no resistance, but soon he was trying to thrust again, as the sensation began to overwhelm him. Finally he moaned, "Stop. You have to stop. I'm going to come and I need you in me."

Gibbs removed his mouth, and crawled up Tony, until they were face to face again. Tony raised his head, and kissed Gibbs deeply, tasting and smelling himself as their mouths sealed back together. Tony wrapped a hand in Gibbs' hair, holding him there, as if afraid he would suddenly disappear. Finally, Gibbs was able to ask, "Where's your stuff?"

"Top drawer in the nightstand," Tony answered breathlessly.

Gibbs took that opportunity to roll off Tony. Looking to his right, he saw a small oak nightstand with a drawer. He quickly shucked his own clothing and opened up the drawer, pulling out a condom and a bottle of lube. After sliding the condom on, he opened the lube and poured a generous amount on his hand. Crawling back onto the bed, he gently pushed Tony's legs apart, and situated himself between them. Then slowly, with just one finger, he sought out the hot entrance to Tony's body, and teased the finger in past the tight muscles, swirling and thrusting gently. When Tony was answering his probe with thrusts of his own, Gibbs added another finger. This time he allowed himself to go deeper, occasionally brushing against Tony's prostrate, his own cock twitching every time Tony mewled in response to the stimulation. Gibbs scissored his fingers, stretching the younger man open wider, until he could easily get three fingers in. Then, deciding Tony was finally ready, he coated himself with lube, and lined himself up. Spreading Tony's legs just a little wider, he pushed in, pausing when Tony gasped as the head of Gibbs' cock entered his body. Once Tony had adjusted, and was pushing himself against Gibbs, begging silently for more, he slid in all the way. Tony's legs flew up and wrapped around Gibbs' hips, as Gibbs began a slow easy pace of thrusts and withdrawals. Tony's hand was biting into Gibbs' shoulder, as his body danced to the rhythm Gibbs had established. When Gibbs reached down and encircled Tony's cock with his hand, matching what their bodies were doing, Tony begged, "More. I need more." Gibbs complied, thrusting deeper and faster, no longer attempting to remain steady in his tempo, his own need beginning to match Tony's. Soon Tony was making an odd little humming sound in the back of his throat, and it wasn't long before he exploded, cum spurting out all over his belly and Gibbs' hand. That was all it took to push Gibbs over the edge, and with two more deep thrusts, he too came, his cock throbbing his release in the warm embrace of Tony's body.

Gibbs collapsed down on top of Tony's limp form, making sure he didn't touch the bandages on his right shoulder. Tony's eyes were closed, and Gibbs wasn't sure if he was conscious. "Tony?" he said quietly.

"Mmmhmm," Tony responded, not opening his eyes.

"I should pull out of you," Gibbs said softly.

"In bit," was the mumbled response he got, although Tony's left arm reached up and wrapped around Gibbs' shoulder.

Gibbs relaxed, and lay there until he could hear Tony's breath slowing down and evening out. When he was sure that Tony was asleep, he gently slid out of Tony's body, and off the bed. Then quietly, he stood, and went in search of the bathroom. When he found it, he saw that there was a small closet built into the wall. Opening it up, he found towels and wash clothes neatly stacked on a shelf. Pulling out one of each, he ran the wash rag under warm water. He slid the condom off his spent cock, and deposited it into the trash can next to the toilet, then he quickly washed himself off. Setting the cloth in the sink and resting the towel on the edge, he then went out into the kitchen. He placed the Chinese food that sat on the counter in the refrigerator, and picked up the pieces of broken plate, placing them in the garbage can he found under the sink. Then, using paper towels, he cleaned up the spilled rice as best he could. Once he was finished, he padded back to the bathroom. After rinsing the cloth, he carried it and the towel into the bedroom, and very gently cleaned up Tony, who never woke up. That done, Gibbs crawled back into the bed. When his body caused the mattress to sag slightly, Tony rolled onto his side, then flopped onto Gibbs, his head landing on Gibbs' shoulder. Gibbs reached out with his free hand, and rested it on Tony's hip. Breathing deep, he inhaled the scent he would forever associate with Tony – a mix of soap, musk and a hint of Chinese food. That was how he was still laying when he, too, drifted off into sleep.

Tony woke up several hours later, his head resting on Gibbs' chest. When he raised his head up to look at the man, he found Gibbs gazing down at him. "Hey," he said, suddenly feeling slightly bashful.

"Hey yourself," Gibbs answered.

"Sorry about passing out on you. Guess I was more tired than I thought," Tony said.

"And here I thought I'd worn you out," Gibbs said, surprising Tony by making a joke.

Tony gave a small laugh as he frantically tried to think of what to say next. He wasn't in the habit of sleeping with his future bosses, and he wasn't sure what Gibbs was thinking. Rule #12 kept dancing around in his head, and he realized this was probably a one time thing, as he tried to convince himself that he didn't care. 'We both had an itch, and now we've scratched it, so we can move on,' he told himself sternly.

"So, do you think we'll ever actually get to finish our Chinese food?" Gibbs asked him.

"Huh?" Tony asked, too busy steeling himself for the inevitable to fully follow what Gibbs was saying.

"Eating, Tony. Do you thing we'll ever be able to finish our food before we wind up in bed, or out on a case?" Gibbs clarified, as he watched Tony closely. He'd seen the shutters close on Tony's face, and he was making an educated guess about what had caused that withdrawal.

"You want to do this again?" Tony asked, trying to squelch the relief he could hear creeping into his voice, not wanting to appear too eager, just in case he'd misunderstood.

"Well, I'd kind of hoped we could," Gibbs answered.

"What about Rule #12?" Tony asked, before he could stop himself.

"I made a new rule while you were sleeping," Gibbs told him with a slight smirk. "Rule #99 – The boss can quietly change a rule when it gets in his way."

"I can live with that," Tony said.

"That's good," Gibbs said, "Real good," as he kissed Tony's forehead. "The rest we can figure out as we go along."

"Abby's going to be impossible to live with," Tony warned, as he nestled back down on Gibbs.

"You have no idea," Gibbs said, and was amazed to discover that he didn't really mind that thought at all.


	20. Chapter 20

"**Discovered Undercover"**

**Chapter Twenty**

Tony stood in front of the bathroom mirror in his apartment, adjusting his tie and thinking back over the last week and a half, which had flown by faster than Gibbs' driving. It had been a strange mix. There'd been good times – the days he spent with Abby searching for a new apartment in D.C., when they had laughed until their sides hurt, bad times – the afternoon he'd gone to his old precinct to clean out his desk and had run into Dawson, who'd been his most nasty, and heady times – the hours he spent with Gibbs, late at night, when they made love and then lay sated in the bed together, pressed close, silent but satisfied. Now it was 5:00 a.m., on Wednesday, July 25th, and he was getting ready to start his first day as an NCIS agent. Well, an agent in training, actually, until he completed the required courses at FLETC; but because another FLETC session wasn't scheduled until the beginning of August, and Gibbs' team was shorthanded, and about to become even more so, since today was Liz Templeton's last day, Director Morrow had decreed that Tony could begin early, as long as he remained on desk duty. Tony gave his reflection one last glance, then, satisfied with what he saw, he turned and went into his living room, dodging the stacks of cardboard boxes that lay scattered across the floor, into which he'd spent the last few days packing his possessions.

On Friday evening he and Abby had finally found an apartment that suited him. It was in an old building on the south side of town, on the fourth floor of a five story, brick building, painted white, which had faded to a pale grey with age. Flowering vines spread out across the surface, and Tony had been instantly charmed. There was an elevator, which had been out of service, although the super had assured Tony the repairmen would be there the next day. When the door to #4B was unlocked, and Tony got his first look at the apartment, he knew they'd found it. The floor was covered with wide rich oak planks, and the walls had been recently repainted in a warm ecru. The ceiling, which was at least ten feet high, coved over the main room, but what really caught and held Tony's attention were the double set of floor to ceiling windows, that looked out over a small courtyard at the back of the building. "This is perfect! I'll take it," he told the super, after he'd taken three steps into the room.

"After we see the rest, of course," Abby had quickly added, elbowing Tony sharply in the side, hoping to snap him out of the trance he seemed to be in. "Why don't you just let us look around, and we'll come down to see you when we're done." She watched the super leave, and then whirled around to face Tony. "Smooth, real smooth. It's going to be kind of hard to haggle about the rent, when you're so eager to have it that you don't even wait until you've seen the whole thing before you tell him you want it."

"I don't need to see the whole thing. The living room alone is bigger than my whole apartment in Bmore, and those windows are reason enough to take the place," Tony said.

Abby had rolled her eyes, and strode forward, intent on examining every nook and cranny in the place. In the end, she'd labeled the closet space as "adequate," the bedroom as "a little dark, but okay," the bathroom as "barely clean enough," and the kitchen as "in need of a face lift." Tony, on the other hand, had been thrilled to discover the walk-in closet in the bedroom, which was dark because its windows were covered by white wooden shutters that he labeled "awesome!" The claw foot tub in the bathroom, had immediately suggested all kinds of possibilities to him, most of which starred Gibbs, naked and wet. He was willing to admit the kitchen was a little outdated, but argued that it was consistent with the time the place had been built. To which Abby had snorted, "Yeah, the counters and appliances are genuine antiques."

In the end, none of Abby's objections mattered, and Tony had signed the lease agreement before they left that night. The super had told Tony he could move in next weekend, just as soon as the credit check was complete, and a few small maintenance issues were addressed. So Tony and Abby had gone out to celebrate, winding up in a local dance club, where they had both had too much to drink, and ended up taking a cab to back to Abby's place to sleep it off. Gibbs called on Saturday morning, on the pretense of making sure the apartment hunting had gone well, but really because he'd been concerned when he hadn't been able to reach Tony at his own place. A groggy Abby had thrust the phone at Tony, who lay in a heap on her sofa, having not moved since he'd collapsed there the night before, and announced that she was going back to bed, and didn't want to be disturbed for at least five more hours. Gibbs had grumpily agreed to pick Tony up and take him back to the club, so Tony could pick up his car. That had evolved into Gibbs following Tony back to Baltimore, and taking him out in his car to buy moving boxes, since a Corvette is not conducive to carrying large things. Once the boxes had been constructed, Tony had begun to toss his worldly possessions into them with wild abandon, pausing only for sustenance, which consisted of Chinese food, that Gibbs had taken to nibbling off of Tony's naked stomach, and sex, which Tony had decided was more important than food. By the end of the night, a small U-Haul truck had been reserved for the following Saturday, and Tony's living room and kitchen had been mostly boxed up, leaving out only the most bare essentials, to see Tony through the next week.

Monday had been hard for Tony. Gibbs and Abby were both busy at work, and in his hurry to start his new life, he'd packed up his tapes and VCR on Saturday, leaving him few options for entertaining himself as he waited for Wednesday to roll round. By late Monday afternoon he'd torn through the boxes, locating the VCR player and a few of his favorite movies, and had spent the rest of that night, and the next day, watching them, breaking the monotony occasionally by sorting through his clothes, packing those he knew he wouldn't need for the next week, and weeding out those he knew he'd never wear again, to give to charity.

But finally, Wednesday had arrived, and by 5:15, Tony was on the road, headed for the Naval Yard. He got there by 6:30, having stopped along the way for coffee, after realizing just how early he was. When he got to the gates, he encountered his first snag of the day. He didn't have an ID yet, and wasn't on the approved visitors list. The security guard on duty, a young Marine who looked like he'd take no prisoners, refused to let him in. Tony had explained the situation to him, telling him it was his first day, and that he knew he was early, but had been excited to get started, but the man wouldn't budge. Finally, Tony had taken out his cell phone and called Gibbs. When Gibbs heard what was going on, he assured Tony he'd take care of it. They'd just disconnected when the phone in the guard shack began to ring. The Marine had answered it, and then paused to listen. His face paled as he listened, and all he managed to say was an occasional "Yes Sir!" When he finally hung up, his hand shaking slightly, he'd pressed the button that opened the gate, and waved Tony in without saying another word. Tony had been surprised to find Gibbs waiting for him at the security desk inside the building, a laminated pass in his hand.

"Don't know what went wrong," he greeted Tony, as he handed him the pass. "I asked Liz yesterday to make sure you were on the visitor's list, since you wouldn't have the proper ID yet."

"No biggie," Tony had answered. "She probably got sidetracked, and forgot."

Gibbs just grunted in reply, and led the way to the elevator that would take them to the bullpen.

"You're early," Gibbs observed, as they rode up.

"Yeah, eager to get started," Tony admitted. "You're here kind of early too, aren't you?" he asked.

"Not really. I usually get here sometime between 6:30 and 7:00. No point in sitting around at home waiting for the day to start."

Tony didn't point out that most people would use the time to get a little more sleep, since he clearly had no room to talk, as he was there just as early. When the doors to the elevator opened back up, Gibbs led Tony to the desk that sat kitty-cornered from his own, which was empty except for a computer and a phone that sat on top of it. "This is yours. Go ahead and take some time to get yourself set up," he said, nodding to the bag Tony had carried in with him. "There are supplies in there," he said, pointing to a large metal cabinet, "Help yourself to whatever you need. Just make a list of what you take, so the administrative assistant can charge it to the right account. Someone from Tech Services will be up here at 7:30 to get you set up on the computer, and we'll have a briefing when Liz gets in, so you're up to speed on what she's working on." Gibbs then went to his own desk, and began to scroll through his emails.

Tony began to pull objects out of the bag. A Mickey Mouse stapler was placed on the desk, along with a large mug with his fraternity's Greek letters printed on the front, into which he placed several pens and pencils he liberated from the supply closet. Pictures were tacked to the partitions that encircled the desks, separating Gibbs' team from the others on the floor, and a rolodex and desk calendar were positioned to the right of the monitor. Gibbs covertly watched all of this out of the corner of his eye, barely succeeding in hiding his amusement when the bobblehead football player doll appeared, dressed in an Ohio State jersey. By the time Templeton arrived, a little after 7:00, Tony had the desk arranged to his satisfaction.

Liz eyed him carefully as she walked towards her desk. 'So this was the perfect Anthony DiNozzo,' she thought, as she took in his immaculately cut midnight blue designer suit, crimson silk tie and carefully styled hair. Abby hadn't stopped gushing about him since she had come back to work, and Liz was more than a little tired of hearing about his wonders. She couldn't help but notice his desk, already cluttered with personal items, as if he'd been there for years, a sharp contrast to her empty one, since she'd packed up most of her possessions days ago, in anticipation of her departure. Her lip curled when she saw the fraternity mug and football player doll. 'Bet he's a walking example of arrested development,' she thought to herself. He stood, as she crossed by his desk, a wide grin on his face, and held out his hand, ready to introduce himself, but she didn't stop, holding up the coffee cup in her hand as an explanation for why she hadn't taken his hand. "You must be DiNozzo," she said, as she set the coffee down, and pulled out her chair, which she eased down into, leaving him standing. "Gibbs mentioned that you were starting today," then she summarily dismissed him by reaching over and turning on her computer.

Tony stood there, looking at her. 'Well, that was nice,' he told himself. No 'Hi, how are you?' or 'Welcome to NCIS,' or even a 'My name is Liz Templeton.' He looked over at Gibbs, who sat at his desk, having taken in the entire encounter, and raised an eyebrow in question. Gibbs just smirked in reply, and turned back to what he'd been doing. Tony had just sat back down, when the elevator doors opened up again, discharging an excited Abby, who rushed into the bullpen, her boots clumping, and the chains around her waist and neck clanging.

"You're here!" she shrieked. "Why didn't you come down to see me?" she demanded. "I've been waiting for an hour," she said, as she reached over to punch him on the left shoulder, and then pulled him in for a quick hug.

"I didn't know I was supposed to," Tony defended himself, as he laughed at her. "No one briefed me on that ritual."

"Well, now you know. See that it doesn't happen again, Mister!" she said, absolving him in a regal voice. "Here, I got you a desk warming gift," she said, as she held out the black gift bag that had been dangling on her left wrist.

Tony began pulling out sheet after sheet of black tissue paper, decorated with white and holographic skulls and crossbones, to get at the object buried at the bottom of the bag. Finally he succeeded, and pulled out a garish hula girl figurine, whose hips swayed wildly when he gave it a little shake. "It's fabulous," he told Abby, as he shook it again, to watch the doll dance.

"Yeah, I figured in another month you'd be ready for a tropical vacation, and thought you could look at that and pretend you were in Hawaii," Abby beamed, as he placed it lovingly next to the Ohio State bobblehead.

"Aw, that's so cute. They're a couple," Abby gushed.

"And you're a couple of idiots," Gibbs said from his desk, although his voice held no malice, and Liz, who'd been watching the whole thing, thought she even saw a small smile play across his lips. "Don't you have tests you should be running, Abs? You can talk to him more later."

Abby looked over at Tony and rolled her eyes, but prepared leave. "Don't forget, you promised to have lunch with me and Ducky today," she told Tony sternly. Then she pulled him to her again, saying, "Just one more hug," she announced to the room. But then she pressed her face close to his. "Welcome home," she whispered in his ear, so softly that only Tony could hear her. Tony gave her a squeeze back in silent reply, and then gently extracted himself from her embrace.

Not long after Abby had left, the tech specialist arrived, and got to work showing Tony what all his computer could do. Tony was assigned a password, and shown how to access all of the various databases. An email account was set up, and Tony's computer was logged into the printer system. Finally, confidant that Tony could now navigate his way through the complicated web that was the NCIS computer system, the tech left, and Gibbs announced that it was time for Liz to bring Tony up to speed, then he leaned back in his desk chair, to watch what happened.

Liz started by pulling out a stack of files and plopping them on Tony's desk. "These are all the cold cases we've been reviewing lately," she informed him. "Case details are inside, along with reports from every agent who worked on them. Evidence is tagged and logged in down in the basement in the lockers. You'll find reports from forensics in there, too. There isn't really much more to say about them. Maybe you'll have better luck with them than we did using some of those unique investigative skills they teach at police academies," she snarked.

When it looked like Gibbs was going to comment, Tony gave his head an almost imperceptible shake. He didn't want to give Liz any reason to think he couldn't defend himself, and besides, he knew she'd be gone by tomorrow. "I do have my ways," he said to her, and wiggled his eyebrows at her, and smirked when she visibly bristled. He'd had lots of practice dealing with superior attitudes; that was all he'd encountered in Baltimore.

"I'm sure you do," Liz sniffed, and then she reached back over to her desk and grabbed another folder. "This is the only active case we have right now. A CWO," and she paused. "A CWO is a …"

"A Chief Warrant Officer, I know," Tony said, before she could elaborate. "They teach us to read at the Police Academy," he said with a smile.

Liz didn't rise to the bait, but it was clear that Tony had just scored a point. "As I was saying, CWO Jefferson Wilson, on leave, disappeared from his hotel on Monday, and no one's seen him since. When we searched his room, we didn't find any clue as to where he could have gone."

"So, how do you know he just isn't off having a little fun?" Tony asked.

"He missed a meeting he'd set up with his CO, and we found traces of blood on the floor in the bathroom of his hotel room," she answered.

"Did you pull the security tapes at the hotel?" Tony asked.

"Of course," Liz answered, "There weren't any signs of him leaving, although the security cameras didn't cover any of the service entrances."

"What about his credit cards or bank accounts? Any activity?"

"None," Liz said.

Gibbs listened to the exchange, impressed that Tony had jumped right in.

"Did you…." Tony began.

"Look, why don't you look over the file, then we can talk about it," Liz snapped, not willing to play twenty questions with Tony.

Tony agreed that was probably the best plan, and when he started looking over the file, Liz informed Gibbs that she needed to do an exit interview with HR, and suggested that this might be the best time, if they had someone available. When Gibbs had agreed, she'd picked up the phone and arranged it.

Gibbs had gone up to MTAC while Liz was gone, leaving Tony alone with the case file. By the time he got back down, Liz had returned, and was sitting at her desk, reading email. Tony was also on the computer, deeply engrossed in something. About an hour later, Tony looked up and asked Liz, "What about James Herbert? What did he have to say?"

"Who?" Liz asked, confused by Tony's question.

"James Herbert. Wilson was instrumental in busting him for drug trafficking eight years ago, which got him sent to the brig. He just got out of the United States Disciplinary Barracks in Leavenworth two weeks ago, and has reportedly moved back into the D.C. area. His wife left him when he got sent away, and he was a less than model prisoner while incarcerated. He might be worth looking into. According to the court transcripts, he was pretty vocal about Wilson needing to watch his back," Tony told her.

Liz just sat, blinking at him. She hadn't seen anything about that in Wilson's record. Of course, she'd only looked at the last couple of years, and when she hadn't found anything promising, had given it up as a lost cause. Gibbs, on the other hand, was on his feet.

"Do you have an address for Herbert?" he asked Tony.

Tony reached for one of the pens he had placed on his desk, and copied something down on a piece of paper. "This is the address listed on his release record. It belongs to his mother. Should give you somewhere to start."

Gibbs took it, and looked over at Liz. "Don't just sit there, let's go." Then he looked over at Tony and said, "We'll be back later. See what you can do with the cold cases while we're gone." With that parting order, he headed for the elevator, Liz trotting along at his heels.

It took them over six hours, but they eventually tracked Herbert down through a lead provided by his mother, and ultimately discovered Wilson's body in the trunk of the old beat up Dodge Aspen he was driving. Abby was perched on Tony's desk, laughing at something the young man had said, when Liz and Gibbs, followed by Ducky, returned. Ducky, who was delighted to see Tony, hurried over to greet him.

"Well?" Tony asked Gibbs, as soon as he was able to get a word in edgewise.

"He did it," Gibbs answered. "Still had the body in his car when we caught up to him. Claimed Wilson ruined his life."

"That's great," Tony exclaimed. "I mean, not the dead body, but that you got Herbert," he quickly added.

"Ducky said he'd only been dead for about ten hours when we found him," Gibbs added, glaring at Liz. He didn't need to say more. His meaning was crystal clear. Liz had dropped the ball on this one by not digging deeper into Wilson's background, assuming that because nothing recent had seemed relevant, the same could be said about the past. Liz, who had gone directly to her desk, looked over at him, as he stood by Tony's desk, surrounded by Abby and Ducky. It was clear who the outsider was. "Get your report done, then you can call it a day," Gibbs told her. "It's 1730 now, so there isn't any point in doing much more." He couldn't wait to see the back side of her. It had taken all his limited self restraint not to chew her up at the crime scene, but he knew nothing would be gained by it. After today, she wasn't going to be his problem any more. A half hour later, Liz slid her report onto his desk. After looking it  
over, he grunted and said, "That's it then."

Liz didn't need any more instruction. Snatching her purse, and the small bag that held her remaining personal possessions, she made to depart. As she walked by Tony's desk, she paused. Looking at him she said, "Good luck. No one seems to last much more than a month. I wouldn't get too comfortable if I were you." Then turning on her heels, she stalked out, not bothering to tell Gibbs goodbye.

"Well, let's go DiNozzo," Gibbs said to Tony after she was gone.

"Where are we going?" Tony asked, but Gibbs was already by the elevator, and hadn't heard him.

Grabbing his backpack, he hurried after his boss.

When they got into the elevator, Gibbs reached over and flicked the emergency stop switch on the control panel, causing the elevator to stop. Crowding in close to Tony he said, "You done good today Tony," as he leaned over and ran his hands over Tony's ass, pulling his body close to him.

"Mmmm," Tony moaned, as pelvis met pelvis. "Is this your traditional reward for good work? 'Cause if so, I'm going to make sure I do my best every day."

"You do that," Gibbs said, right before his mouth closed on Tony's neck.

"Um, aren't people going to want the elevator?" Tony asked, as Gibbs worked his way up to Tony's jaw.

"They'll wait," Gibbs answered him, although he knew he needed to stop. "Can't do this often," he said to Tony, as he pressed into him.

"Didn't expect to do it ever," Tony panted, as Gibbs rocked into him.

"Really need some release. Was all I could do not to deck Templeton," Gibbs murmured, as he licked at the spot directly behind Tony's ear that always made the younger man croon.

"Well, she's gone now. Although, if I'd known she had this effect on you, I'd have begged her to stay," Tony moaned.

With great effort, Gibbs pushed himself off of Tony. Straightening himself back up, he flicked the elevator back on. "Chinese, my place," he managed to say.

"I can always eat," Tony said.

"I was counting on that," Gibbs said, as the doors opened.

Ducky, who was standing by his car, watched as Tony and Gibbs walked out of the building together and headed towards the parking lot. 'They look right together,' he thought with a smile. He watched, as they exchanged a quick word, before the both got into their cars and headed out of the lot, Tony's car right behind Gibbs'. When they both turned in the same direction, he smiled again. Whistling a little, as he climbed into his own car, Ducky turned on his car. Something told him Gibbs wouldn't be getting a lot done on his boat in the near future. The sense of rightness about that made him grin again.

FINIS


End file.
